#well. is still is better than before. but i am realizing that before i was doing very badly and now i am doing badly

[mediumgayitalian]

"Try some."

Nico wrinkles his nose. "It looks like plastic."

"And you look like someone who's getting on my last nerve." Will shakes the offending -- thing. At him. Nico leans back, refusing to let it touch him. "Oh -- it is not contagious, you goober!"

"It's gross!"

"You've never even tried it!"

"I can tell!"

"You're a priss!"

"You are a human trash can who ate a strawberry that fell on the floor last week!"

"Hey Nico. Quickly. Where do strawberries grow from."

"It is a different thing!"

"In your grand delusions, maybe."

Nico kicks Will in the shoulder, sending him sprawling. He is unfortunately a weird noodle and absorbs the impact easily, shifting so he's lying backwards on the bed, head upside-down over the edge, feet tapping on the wall. Nico pinches him in disgust, only Will catches his hand so it doesn't work. Nico huffs louder.

"For someone with as much of a sweet tooth as you, it is crazy that you have a candy superiority complex."

"Not everyone is addicted to Twizzlers."

"...I'm not addicted. I could stop any time."

Nico looks pointedly at the two empty -- family sized, he would like to add -- wrappers, and the third pack currently being worked through. If it was possible he'd make himself sick off it. Instead he lives in hubris. And shamelessness; he meets Nico's eyes and sends him an exaggerated wink.

(Which.)

(Because he cannot wink.)

(Is just this. Really endearing. Hard blink.)

(Gods, he is so stupid.)

(Nico hates him.)

"You're such a humiliating dweeb that being around you makes me less cool by proxy. Not addicted, he says."

Will shoves another seven -- seven. -- Twizzlers in his mouth. He does not bother to chew before speaking.

"I'm not!"

"You are in actual debt! To the entire Hermes cabin! For the rest of your life!" Nico takes a Twizzler, for the sole purpose of using it to emphasize his point, and also smack Will in the leg with it. "Do you know how hard that is? I have tried to gamble away your debt four times! I have not put a chunk into it!"

"Well, maybe you suck at gambling."

Nico's eye twitches. Will does not even pretend to keep his snickering to himself.

"I was stuck in a casino for seventy fucking years --"

"Damn, and you still can't play poker. Embarrassing."

"I CAN FUCKING --" Nico stops. He takes a deep breath. He stands, putting his book to the side, and does several deep breathing exercises. Will laughs until he cries, because he is a word Hazel made him swear not to say even in his own head.

"Your face," Will wheezes. There is a thump as he falls off the bed and crumples to the floor.

"Kill yourself," Nico says calmly. A muscle in his jaw jumps and he starts his exercises anew. "Better yet, let me."

Will blows a kiss at him. Nico mimes catching it and throwing it on the floor and stomping on it, which makes him genuinely gasp in offense, which is gratifying. Except there is enough hurt in the action that Nico panics a little and hurries to grab the kiss off the floor and brush off the dust and stuff it in his pocket. And then he realizes what he's doing, and that Will is full of shit and is going red with the effort of trying to hold back his giggling, and he goes so violently red himself his vision swims a little.

"That was very cute," Will manages, snickering.

"I am going to blow up this camp and everyone in it," Nico seethes, hotter technically than a red dwarf star.

Will swallows back his giggles. It doesn't work, exactly, and what happens instead is he tries very hard to keep his face pleasant and neutral, except every few seconds his shoulders shake and his chapped lips twitch and his blue eyes sparkle like playful frost. And he stands, and steps towards Nico, and Nico is frozen, and his heart hammers, and his palms, suddenly, get very very sweaty.

"I mean it," Will says, and the worst thing is that he really does sound sincere, even as he smiles teasingly. "It was very cute." He steps closer. What is left of Nico's rational brain leaks out of his ears and fizzles through the floorboards like acid. "You're very cute."

He has no shame. None. Surely it's his damned father's fault; Will gets like this, sometimes, determined and bold and affectionate like all the flailing gangliness that afflicts him every other day of his life disappears, cowed in the grandness of his affectionate determination. He steps closer, enough, and now he is close enough that Nico can hear him humming, can hear the rocking of his heels. Can smell the artificial strawberry on his breath, can almost taste the sweetness in the air between them.

His lips part.

He swallows, dry.

His palms are clammy, and he curls them into weak fists.

"Very cute," Will repeats, leaning closer. "I like how much you care about people even though you are embarrassed about it. Makes me think of a groundhog."

"You are such a weirdo," Nico says weakly, but there is no wit to it, because he cannot taste anything but the wanting behind his teeth, and cannot see anything but the huge pools of Will's sparkling eyes, and the quirk of his red-stained lips. "Genuinely, it's --"

"Hey."

Will ducks down. He's breathing, suddenly, milimeters from Nico's mouth, and Nico stops breathing at all.

"If I gave you some now, would you try it?"

"Yes," Nico says, small and strangled, because that would be the answer for anything Will asked him right now. "Yes, fine, you can --"

But Will does not produce a licorice rope from his pocket. He does not reach over and dart across the cabin to where the open bag lay, abandoned, on his bed, he does not tease out any of the strands curled around his fist. Instead, he -- drops them. And then he reaches his wide, open palms forward, and he --

Nico squeaks.

Will doesn't move, for a moment, lips still pressed to his, eyes open, head tilted, observing.

Nico's eyes flutter closed.

He feels Will's smile, against his lips. Feels the smugness in his warm hands, curled around his jaw, feels the sweet satisfaction sticking to his teeth.

They don't taste so bad after all, Twizzlers.

"Told you," Will murmurs. "See, they're good, they're --"

Nico backs him against the wall, and kisses him until they candy taste is gone from his tongue.

[xylatox]

By a string || cyj

My first fic of nina’s which is absolutely diabolical to me. I am so happy I finally got to read one of her fics :). I always love a good YJ fic and spiderman brings me back hehe. Anyways unto my thoughts!!

Do most of your conversations revolve around your shared class? Yes. Does Yeonjun ever get tired of teaching you the concepts? No, never. In fact, he stretches out his explanations as long as possible to keep you talking to him longer. — off the bat this is cute as hell. Yeonjun is such a cutie and i can see him doing this

Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun can’t have you stop coming to him for math help; you’d never talk to him at all if it came to that! — He is such a cutie oh my word 😭

Soobin and Yeonjun being awkward is kind of endearing awwww :((( I also love how we get his thoughts hes so charming in his own kind of awkward way.

“Right now?” he asks. “I-I have class…” As much as he likes you, he really can’t risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance. — love a man who’s a nerd and doesnt skip classes

He glances back at you casually, making sure you didn’t witness him tripping. Fortunately, you’re on your phone, no longer paying him any mind. — im going to be gushing about how cute he is for the entire thing i swear.

Taehyun hums and nods. “Well, we missed you bro, hope you’re feeling better. I’ll see you around!” Yeonjun waves and returns the smile his friend gives him, then walks as fast as he can to the location you sent him — Taehyun my little boba-eyed cutie

“Cause we’re friends,” he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldn’t even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment. — Man :::::((((((

Oh my god. Im so giddy over the mc talking to Kai about Yeonjun. Thats actually so damn cute. My heart is actually so soft. They are genuinely the cutest pair and they arent even seeing each other yet

���Sorry, gotta take this,” he says. “Stay right here.” He slings himself onto a branch of a tall tree nearby, just to make sure no one can listen in as he accepts your call. — this is so funny lmfao waw Yeonjun, priorities 

I think its nice to see that despite Yeonjun and Soobin not really being friends Soobin still asked if he was okay :( I, God, mc is so sweet and understanding. I love how she just helps Yeonjun, no questions asked

“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when you said you’d hang out with me again.” There’s a softness in your voice that makes Yeonjun feel lightheaded. Not the losing-too-much-blood kind of lightheaded, but the oh-god-I-really-like-her kind—this one’s much more preferable and much more welcome than the former. — And the way she lightens the situation too :((((

“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. — I love them so bad oh my god im dying???

I made the saddest face when I realized Beomgyu is not really a bad guy but?? Idk how to phrase it, just a not so nice person? Wait but oh. Okay. I take it back, sorry Gyu :((( I feel so bad for Yeonjun ahhh :(((( 

“We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” —  you know I’m a nerd cuz this made me giggle

“Oh, I’ve already told, like, three people that you’re my boyfriend.” There might be real hearts in Yeonjun’s eyes right now. — LOL????

“It’s not that bad. I think we can pass the time,” he says, failing to hold back his smile. — I giggled o good lord.

“That’s your cue, Spider-man.” — Such a cute end ahhh

I am again soso glad I finally got to read your work! Its so good and I love your style of writing. It makes me so happy just how seamless your write everything. Definitely can’t wait to share my thoughts on another one of your works :)) 

by a string

summary: Yeonjun’s got a lot on his plate. Not only does he have to worry about being a star student, but he also has to be the city’s web-slinging hero. And a lab intern. And a semi-decent roommate. And a little bit in love with you.

pairings: yeonjun x fem!reader

word count: 18.9k

tags: fluff, smut (mdni), some angst, spiderman!yeonjun, his webs shoot from his actual wrists like tobey maguire’s spiderman, college au, yeonjun is a cute awkward charming nerd, inaccurate science stuff sorry, blood, physical violence, lots of spidey shenanigans, campy weird action scene teehee, small arguments

smut tags: making out, heavy petting, webs as cuffs LOLLL, thigh riding, edging, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral (f rec.), yeonjun is so playful and such a tease

notes: omg she’s finally here!!! i am so excited to get this out to u guys hehe<3 tysm for all the love on the teaser, i hope spideyjjun steals ur heart. enjoy the fic !!!

Saving the city can suck sometimes. Homework sucks significantly more. If Yeonjun had the option to zip through the city chasing some bad guys instead of sitting here trying to finish his calculus assignment, he’d be flying out his window in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, responsibility is a virtue, and Yeonjun cannot swing through the city for no good reason.

The one good thing about this tedious, awful calculus homework is that if it’s hard enough, he always gets a text from you. His body springs to life when he hears his phone buzz, rushing to pick it up and check the notification.

[you] have u done the calc homework

[you] how do you solve #4 :(

Do most of your conversations revolve around your shared class? Yes. Does Yeonjun ever get tired of teaching you the concepts? No, never. In fact, he stretches out his explanations as long as possible to keep you talking to him longer. Yeonjun never knew before that math talk could make his heart flutter.

“So, does that make sense?” he asks after a long-winded explanation. He’s almost out of breath after spewing out so much math jargon, but being on a call with you for ten minutes has similarly breathtaking effects.

“Yeah. Thanks, Yeonjun.” He bites back a giggle upon hearing your words. “You should seriously be teaching this class,” you say with a laugh.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t—I mean, I’m—I’m more of a science guy,” he stammers out, lips tightening into a thin line at the embarrassment of stumbling over his own sentence. “Our professor’s pretty cool, too,” he adds as if that saves him at all.

“Is he? Maybe I should start going to his office hours,” you muse.

Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun can’t have you stop coming to him for math help; you’d never talk to him at all if it came to that!

“He’s not that cool,” Yeonjun says. You laugh, and he huffs out a short chuckle too.

“Noted. I’m gonna go now, but thanks for helping me. You’re the best.” Your praise goes straight to Yeonjun’s head, making him feel like the greatest man to ever live. He doesn’t even feel this accomplished after going out on his little spidey-missions.

He’s a beat too late to say goodbye or good night to you, the call already hanging up as he opens his mouth to speak. He melts into a puddle over his desk, sighing out as he plays back his conversation with you in his head. He thinks you have the prettiest voice he’s ever heard. You’re so smart, too. He never has to over exert himself to get you to understand, though he would happily do that for you.

He jolts up as his roommate walks into his dorm. Yeonjun glances at him quickly as he straightens out his posture, picking his pencil back up and returning to his homework.

“Hey,” his roommate, Soobin, greets quietly. Yeonjun didn’t know Soobin prior to this semester, but he’s been pretty nice. He’s very quiet, but very respectful of Yeonjun’s space. It’s much appreciated, considering Yeonjun’s hiding a few of his red and blue spandex suits in his closet.

“Hey. How was your day?” Yeonjun asks, only half-interested in the conversation.

He watches Soobin shrug from his peripheral as he slides off his shoes. “Normal,” he answers.

Yeonjun nods. “Cool.” The conversation kind of dies after that, which is fine. Soobin isn’t the most extroverted person, and Yeonjun doesn’t push him to talk more than he’s willing to. He sometimes forgets he even has a roommate with how quiet it gets in the room.

Yeonjun regains his focus a minute into the silence. His eyes widen when he realizes that there’s now a doodle of your face on his calculus homework—when did that get there..? His face heats up as he grabs an eraser from his desk’s drawer. Thank god he didn’t do this assignment in pen.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s not really paying attention to the professor, finding more interest in taking quick glances at you. You’re wearing a different bracelet today. It’s really pretty—maybe he should compliment you on it. Is it weird to lean in and tell you that? Are you close enough where he can compliment you without looking weird and creepy?

He rests his head in his hand and starts doodling in his notebook, mindlessly scribbling on the page while he waits for the lecture to end. He thinks of quick conversational things to say, something to discuss in a few minutes when it’s time to pack your bags and leave. Interesting class, right? Who would’ve thought—Yeonjun looks up at the projector to see the professor’s notes—the shell method… would be so cool… Maybe he shouldn’t say that, actually.

He’s honestly better off not trying to strike up a conversation with you at all; the chances of it leading to total and utter embarrassment lean greatly towards one hundred percent. He just wishes he had a little more spine, or that he was naturally a little cooler. The only interesting thing about him is something he can’t even talk to you about, or with anyone at all.

Yeonjun barely registers it when the professor dismisses class. He steals one last glance toward you, lips parting like he finally built up the courage to speak, but the words build up in his throat and die on his tongue. He seals his lips and focuses his gaze back on his own things, closing his notebook and shoving it in his bag. It’s not worth it. He decides he’ll just keep his mouth shut.

“Hey Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun almost jumps out of his seat, and he has to fight away his nerves as he turns to you. You’re packing your things back into your bag, not even looking at him. A part of him thinks he might be hearing things until your eyes meet his, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah?” he responds, voice coming out strained. He clears his throat.

“We’re friends, right?” you ask. He blinks, feeling like this is some kind of trick. He analyzes your face, making sure there’s nothing snide or teasing hidden in your question. You look honest enough, which puts him at ease.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“I hope that’s not sarcasm,” you say, getting up from your seat and adjusting your bag over your shoulders.

“It’s not! Really, we’re friends,” he reassures. You walk past him and he follows, leaving the classroom and entering the busy hallway.

“Well, good. I wanted you to go with me somewhere.” Your statement is wildly cryptic, and it leaves Yeonjun’s mind whirling with the possibilities of what you might offer.

“Right now?” he asks. “I-I have class…” As much as he likes you, he really can’t risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance.

You laugh, “No, tonight. There’s this party, and I”—you keep talking, but Yeonjun barely registers it. He’s never partied in college before. What would he even do at a party? He can’t handle his drinks well, and he’s not sure how well he’d blend into that kind of environment. He’s scared he’d make a fool of himself.

As you leave the academic building, you turn to Yeonjun, raising a brow in question. You must have asked him for his confirmation. Yeonjun forces his brain to rack up a response.

“Could you text me the details..?” Yeonjun asks. You relax a little at his words, nodding happily. You pull out your phone, ready to text him now. Yeonjun feels his heart pounding. He catches sight of the time on your phone, noticing he’s only got five minutes until his next class. The hall he’s supposed to be in is at least a three minute walk from here.

“There,” you say, awarding Yeonjun with a grin so bright that being late to class might just be worth it. “I really hope to see you there.” You tilt your head a little, and Yeonjun feels starstruck.

“You will,” he promises mindlessly.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun feared he might’ve been in trouble when his professor asked him to stay after class. Turns out, it’s something much worse.

“Yeonjun, do you think you could help in the lab later today?”

Yeonjun doesn’t think much before he nods. “Yeah, of course, how much later?”

“Around 6 this evening,” his professor answers. Yeonjun’s heart drops. That would be perfectly fine any other day, but he promised to go out with you today. Of course the party would start at the same time Yeonjun’s professor wants him to stop by the lab.

“I’m not sure I have the time,” Yeonjun says quickly, suddenly fidgety and feeling antsy to leave the room. “I’ve got this… thing to do.” His professor doesn’t look too convinced. Yeonjun wants to facepalm himself. Yeah, great excuse.

The professor sighs, but Yeonjun starts up again before his professor can say anything. “I can come in earlier! I’m free right now, so I could just go over after this.”

“The cells we’re working with need a full 24 hours in culture for the sake of our research. Are you sure you can’t push your plans forward? Or back?” he asks.

Yeonjun’s stomach twists with guilt. He knows he shouldn’t let his professor down. Yeonjun’s kind of counting on him to write his recommendation letter for a graduate program, too.

“I’ll push the plans back,” Yeonjun says, giving in. He hopes the dejection isn’t too evident in his voice. His professor smiles and pats Yeonjun’s shoulder in thanks. He half-listens as his professor gives him the usual rundown of what to do during and after the process, nodding along and holding back the frown that tries to tug at his lips.

When Yeonjun finally leaves the building, he lets out the heaviest sigh of his life. His shoulders sag, and he feels like he might be the unluckiest person in the world. You finally give him attention outside of just asking for homework help, and the universe just had to intervene. This is laughable. It’s also stupid. Annoying. Frustrating.

There’s a pout etched onto Yeonjun’s face as he walks back to his dorm. He’s got a couple hours until he needs to go to the lab, so maybe he can take a nap or tidy up his room a little. His head hangs low, gaze transfixed on the sidewalk, kicking along a small pebble that keeps him company on the way.

He only picks his head back up as he walks past a certain field of grass, one he often finds you sitting in. Sometimes you’re on your laptop, sometimes you’re taking notes in a textbook, but most of the time you’re just lounging and doing nothing. It’s almost inspiring. Yeonjun would probably benefit from relaxing and decompressing more.

You’re there, sitting cross-legged on the grass, peaceful and silent. You look up suddenly, making eye contact with Yeonjun. His face flushes, but before he can turn his head in embarrassment, you raise your hand and wave. Yeonjun almost stops in his tracks. You’re waving at him, acknowledging his existence yet again.

He smiles and waves back, failing to tame his heartbeat as he takes the sight of you in. He’s forced to look away when he nearly stumbles over the pebble he’s been kicking around—“Oh, shit!” he utters, quietly enough to not draw attention to himself.

He glances back at you casually, making sure you didn’t witness him tripping. Fortunately, you’re on your phone, no longer paying him any mind.

Back at his dorm, Yeonjun stands by his closet, contemplating what exactly to wear tonight. He also has to make sure his outfit is lab-friendly, so the loose sweater he’d been eyeing is a no-go. He sighs, looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe the t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing now will suffice.

Time passes slowly, slow enough for Yeonjun to clean his half of the room, make himself a small meal in the communal kitchen, and even read a chapter ahead in his calculus textbook. He almost feels relieved when his alarm sets off to go to the lab, eager to get his work over with.

He’s determined to get this done quickly enough to still see you tonight. The thought of letting you down the one time you ask him to hang out is almost painful. He imagines the frown you’d wear next time he sits next to you in class. He can’t let that happen; he has to make sure he gets to you.

He throws on his lab coat and adjusts the goggles to fit onto his face. He sighs as he grabs containers of various chemical compounds from the cabinet, leaving them on the counter as he fetches the other materials he needs. With everything set out in front of him, he grabs the petri dish of cells and glances at the procedural note his professor left.

Yeonjun’s done this enough times to get into the swing of things, so he’s not too concerned with double checking his every move. His bigger priority is getting this done as fast as possible so that he can get to you. Lab work is never particularly fun or interesting, so he passes the time thinking about you.

The smell of the chemicals burns Yeonjun’s nose a little, and he wonders for a second if he’d been zoning out too much. He picks up the procedural note and glances over the measurements again, making sure he’s been adding the right amounts of everything. If he does something wrong and messes with the cell culture, he risks not being allowed back in the lab. He should probably slow down a bit, even if it means making you wait longer.

He’s more careful throughout the rest of the process, pushing back the worries that he might’ve messed something up. He continues to reassure himself that everything’s okay as he finishes up his work, placing the lid back on the petri dish and storing it away. He writes the date and time on a piece of tape that he sticks onto the lid, then finally lets his body relax as he steps back.

He cracks his knuckles to alleviate the stiffness that had been building there and rolls his shoulders back, groaning at the soreness of his muscles. All the fine motor movements from working in a lab does a number on his arms and fingers.

He hears a rattle, and he turns quickly to make sure he didn’t knock anything over in his haste. His eyes scan the room, but nothing looks amiss. He shakes the feeling and sheds himself of his lab gear, eager to head to you at the party already.

It’s been over an hour, and the thought of you waiting so long for Yeonjun’s arrival strikes guilt inside his chest. He opens his phone to find the path he needs to walk to get to the house the party’s being held in, eyes bugging out when he sees that it’s a twenty minute walk from the lab. Shit, by then you’ll have been waiting an hour and a half for him to show up!

He groans, trying to think if there’s a better way to get to you. The buses around campus don’t stop at the street he needs to get to, and it’s not like he has one of those electric bicycles or scooters that everyone seems to love. He wonders now if it might be a worthy investment. He pouts and throws his head back, totally drained from everything happening today. His eyes land on the tops of the academic buildings and the tall trees overhead. Maybe there is another way to get there after all.

No, he shouldn’t. That would be way too reckless. He’s already gone through the whole power and responsibility spiel, and he’s not in the mood to get himself in trouble for acting rashly. But if no one sees…

He turns his head and scans for people in each direction. No one’s around. No one would know, and he really needs to get to the party before he makes himself look like an asshole. He checks for anyone one last time, then aims his wrist towards the sky.

“Yeonjun! What’s up!”

Yeonjun startles and brings his arm back to his side hastily. He whips around to see who’s talking to him and lets out a breath when he sees his friend who had just exited the lab building. “Taehyun, hey man,” he says, ignoring the anxious pounding of his heart. That was way too close. Lesson learned.

“Didn’t catch you at the physics meet last week. Everything alright?” Taehyun asks. Yeonjun really hopes this conversation doesn’t take too long. The last thing he needs is another ten minutes piled on top of how late he already is.

“I’m good, I was just”—controlling a fire set by some idiot arsonist, then trapping said arsonist with his webs until the cops arrived—“uh, kind of sick.”

Taehyun hums and nods. “Well, we missed you bro, hope you’re feeling better. I’ll see you around!” Yeonjun waves and returns the smile his friend gives him, then walks as fast as he can to the location you sent him. He manages to get there in fifteen minutes instead of twenty, only at the expense of heavy breathing like he just finished a marathon.

When he gets to the entrance, there’s two men Yeonjun has never seen in his life guarding the door. He almost scoffs. What is this, some kind of nightclub?

“You got the money?” one of the guys ask.

“What?” Yeonjun scrunches his brows and leans his head forward a little, thinking he might have misheard him.

“No money, no entrance,” the other man says.

“Dude, come on!” Yeonjun whines.

“House rules. Stop wasting our time and get out of line.”

“No, no, I’ll”—Yeonjun sighs, reaching into the back pocket of his pants to fetch out his wallet. “How much?” he asks. The men tell him, and he bites back the complaints that almost push past his lips. Yeonjun slaps the bills into the guy’s open palm. They finally open the door for him, and Yeonjun steps inside.

He’s taken aback by how many people are cramped into this place. The house is pretty big, but there’s at least a hundred people mingling around, which makes space tight. He squeezes past the crowd with muttered apologies, but no one seems to pay him any mind. He scans every room for you, but it’s a little hard to do it efficiently when there’s so many faces to check. A part of him fears you might’ve left already.

He pulls out his phone, ready to text you and ask, before he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns at the action and smiles when he’s met with your pretty face. “Hey, you!” you exclaim. “I thought you bailed on me.” There’s no real bite to your words, but it still makes Yeonjun frown.

“I’m sorry. I had to do this lab thing, and”—

“It’s alright, don’t explain. You’re here now!” you say. “Did you have anything to drink?”

Yeonjun shakes his head. “I don’t drink much.”

“Me either,” you say. You look out the window, then grab onto Yeonjun’s hand. His brain short-circuits, and he has to stop his eyes from going all dumb and wide. “It’s kinda stuffy in here. Let’s go outside.”

Yeonjun puts up no fight as you lead him out the back door, walking out into the yard. There’s almost as many people out here as there are inside, but the lack of walls means there’s more space to move. It’s much more breathable.

He takes quick glances at your face, trying to decipher what you’re staring so hard at. Your gaze is fixed on a small group of people just sitting and laughing. All the guys have girls in their laps, and a few girls stand around them, sipping their drinks. They all look happy. And drunk.

“Did you want to join them?” Yeonjun asks. He doesn’t know any of those people, but he’ll go if that’s what you’d like. It’s not like there’s much else to do when you’re not drinking or dancing.

The LED lights that line the house reflect in your eyes, making them dazzle extra bright. Your eyes dart to the group one last time before you shake your head. “Nah. Let’s just sit down and talk.” Yeonjun gladly obliges.

You find an empty spot to sit at, looking up at Yeonjun after you situate yourself. He laughs a little, “You really like sitting on the grass, huh?”

You smile at him and pat the ground next to you. “Don’t act like you’re too good to connect with nature.”

“It’s more about getting grass stains on my pants,” Yeonjun says, but sits beside you anyways.

You turn your head to him, and something about seeing your face this close makes it hard for him to keep eye contact. It’s quiet for a few seconds before you speak up, “So how come you said yes to the party?”

Something about your question strikes fear inside Yeonjun. Did you find him out? Do you know he likes you? Maybe this is some kind of humiliation ritual you’ve set him up for.

“Cause you asked,” he answers, voice a little meek as he fidgets with his hands in his lap.

“And if it was someone else who asked?”

Yeonjun thinks for a second, but he can’t come to an answer. “I don’t know. Like who?”

You hum and look into the crowd of people. Your head turns back to him after a couple seconds. “Like Yerim,” you say.

Yeonjun laughs as if the scenario is ridiculous, mostly because it is. Yerim would never even give him the time of day. She’s notorious for being cold to anyone who she isn’t interested in. Somehow, that seems to attract a bunch of guys to her. Not Yeonjun, though.

“No chance I’d go,” he says.

“So what makes me different?” you ask.

A lot of things. You’re nice, and you’re smart, and you’re down to earth, and you’re a beacon of warmth. Everything makes you different.

“Cause we’re friends,” he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldn’t even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment.

You nod. “I’m just asking cause… well, I guess I’m just surprised you agreed to come.” Your eyes meet his, warm and kind. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

Yeonjun’s stomach does flips when you look at him like that. “You’re welcome.” It goes quiet for a moment, so he continues, “I think this was worth handing over the last of my cash for.”

You burst out laughing. “They made you pay?! Why didn’t you just say you’re here with me?”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he says. He bites his tongue after the words leave him. Who is he to assume there will be a next time? He hopes you don’t call him out on it.

“We should just go somewhere else next time. There’s a lot of places downtown that I want to visit,” you suggest, bumping his shoulder with yours. Yeonjun almost explodes.

“We should do that then,” he agrees. He’s not sure what suddenly drew you to him as more than some kind of tutor, but he thanks the universe for bestowing him with all this luck.

“There’s that bakery that opened a couple months ago,” you mention.

Yeonjun lights up. “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to go there too!”

You squeal in excitement and clasp your hands together. “Let’s do that next. Tell me you’re free on Sunday,” you say.

“I don’t know, things come up last-minute sometimes. I’ll let you know.” It’s hard to make plans when he’s basically living a double life. Then again, he did agree to going out with you tonight on a whim. He’s not very consistent with his rules. He pushes the thought back.

Your eyes land back on the group of people hanging out and laughing. Yeonjun frowns, and he wonders if he’s not entertaining you enough. He doesn’t want to keep you from having fun.

“Why do you keep looking at them?” he asks, curious and soft. He hopes he’s not prying.

“They’re just some friends,” you answer.

“Oh. Why don’t we go say hi, then?” he offers.

You pull your lips into a tight line. “I’d rather not.”

“That’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You give a small smile in appreciation.

“What about you?” you ask. He tilts his head, not knowing what you mean. You continue, “Who’s in your friend group?”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly and shrugs. “I mostly hang out with the physics honor society,” he admits.

“That’s cool. You must have a good bond.”

“We do,” he says. “How’d you meet your friends?”

You smile at him, and something in your face tells Yeonjun that it’s a complicated story. You sigh dramatically and lean back a little, “I met them at parties. Does that surprise you?”

Yeonjun’s not sure if that’s a rhetorical question. “No. You’re friendly. I can see why people come to you,” he answers.

“Thanks,” you say, voice a little quieter.

“Are you friends with your roommate?” he asks.

“I don’t have one. I live in a single dorm.”

Lucky. If Yeonjun had the extra money to spare, he’d be dorming alone too. It would definitely make heading out as Spider-man easier; he’d just be able to change in his room and jump out his window. Assuming no one is around to see, that is.

“That must be nice,” he says.

You shrug. “It’s alright. What about you? You got a roommate?”

“Yeah. We’re…” Yeonjun struggles to find a word to describe his relationship with Soobin. They’re not exactly friends, but they’re peaceful with each other.

You laugh and finish the sentence for him, “Roommates and nothing more.” There’s a lilt to your voice when you say that, and you wiggle your eyebrows like that’s supposed to suggest something.

“Ignoring your insinuations, yeah, pretty much.”

“I’m just kidding,” you say. He’ll let you make jokes at his expense all you want, it doesn’t bother him. Especially not when it means he gets to see you all giggly and happy. He thinks that you look the prettiest like this. Yeonjun would stare at you smiling up at him forever if he could.

The sound of a guy calling your name pulls Yeonjun from his stupor. He blinks at the man standing before the two of you, then looks at you with scrunched brows as if to ask who is that?

His unspoken question is answered the next second. “Hey, Kai,” you say. When Yeonjun gets a better look, he realizes that this is one of the dudes in the group you kept looking over at.

“Who’s this guy?” Kai asks, jutting his chin toward him.

“I’m Yeonjun.” He goes to hold out his hand for Kai to shake, but quickly puts it back down upon realizing that might be weird.

“Oh, Yeonjun from calculus. I know you,” he says.

“I didn’t know you’re in that class too,” Yeonjun muses.

Kai laughs, “I’m not. Y/n just talks about you.”

Yeonjun nearly melts. You talk about him. This is the best day of his life.

“Anyway,” Kai continues, looking at you again. “I need a couple more people on my beer pong team. You guys down?”

Yeonjun turns to you to gauge your reaction. He can’t really tell what you're feeling, not even when you face him as you contemplate your answer. Yeonjun shrugs, as if to tell you that he’s down for whatever you want to do.

“I think I’m good,” you say.

“Ah, alright, you bummer,” Kai jokes, stepping back and sending you a bright smile. “Continue your convo with the calc lord, I insist.” He’s gone after that, jogging off to the rest of his friends, setting up the game.

“Calc lord?” Yeonjun repeats, amused.

Your laugh is accompanied by a roll of your eyes. “He means it nicely, I swear.”

“Well, depending on how well he does in this game, I might start calling him beer pong lord,” Yeonjun says. You push at his shoulder as your laughter continues.

Yeonjun already knew he likes you a lot, but as the night goes on, he finds out that you’re even better than he thought. Conversation unfolds easily with you, even if Yeonjun’s answers are dorky and awkward at times. He feels exactly how he thinks you look when you sit in the grass alone: content and peaceful.

He’s not sure how many minutes or hours have passed when you ask him to walk you back to your dorm. All he knows is that tonight could have stretched into infinity, and that would’ve been fine. He follows you into the building, then into your room. He’s not sure why. It just feels right.

“Thanks for bringing me back,” you say. Yeonjun smiles and nods. He leans against the wall and stares out the window. You live on the top floor of your building, so the view’s pretty different from Yeonjun’s second story view. This would be a fun room to swing out of.

“Do you need anything else?” Yeonjun asks. A smile slowly takes over your face, and you cross the room to stand in front of him. You blink up at him, and something about it feels flirty. If he wasn’t biting his tongue so hard, his thoughts would have slipped right past his lips: you look cute.

You break the short moment of silence with a giggle. “Just for you to promise me we’ll hang out again,” you say, voice barely over a whisper.

Yeonjun has to remind himself to breathe and be normal. “I promise,” he says. He even holds out his pinky to seal the deal. You curl your pinky around his, accepting the playful gesture.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask. You look out the window, then back at him. “I’m okay with sharing my bed.”

That definitely flusters Yeonjun. “Oh, no, I’m—I was gonna just walk back to my dorm or something. Or take a bus. I don’t know. Thank you, though.”

You laugh. Hopefully not at his sputtering and rambling, but Yeonjun has a feeling that might be why. “Alright, then. Good night, Yeonjun.”

Your soft voice has Yeonjun wanting to backpedal and say he’ll stay the night, but he swallows down the words. He smiles at you as he backs away toward your door. “Good night,” he says, standing in your doorway.

“Yeonjun,” you call, stopping him before he could leave. He turns, waiting for your words. He’s surprised to see that you look a little shy. “I’m really happy I asked you to come with me. Tonight was fun.”

Butterflies erupt in Yeonjun’s stomach, and he feels like he could float from how giddy he is. “I’m happy too,” he says.

He steps out into the hall, thoughts lingering on how overwhelmingly good his time with you was. His mind is clouded with rosy memories of his night with you, and he finds himself repressing the urge to twirl around and jump for joy. He’ll probably be skipping all the way home, imagining all the possibilities of what could come next between you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

It’s Sunday, and Yeonjun knows exactly why you’re calling. He stares at his phone, then back at the man in front of him tangled up in webs. Yeonjun shoots another web over the guy’s mouth.

“Sorry, gotta take this,” he says. “Stay right here.” He slings himself onto a branch of a tall tree nearby, just to make sure no one can listen in as he accepts your call.

“Hey Yeonjun!” Your voice is so cheerful that it makes Yeonjun giggle. He even swings his feet in the air as he sits on the branch.

“Hi Y/n,” he greets, hoping his voice isn’t too muffled through the mask of his suit.

“Did those last-minute plans end up showing, or are you down to try out that bakery?” you ask. Yeonjun frowns, hating to let you down when you sound so happy.

“I’m really busy today, I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders sagging from how awful he feels. He’s got a whole lab procedure to write once he’s done sorting out the crime scenes of today.

“No worries, maybe we can go after class sometime.”

He frowns. “I wish I could, but I got another class right after ours. Let me check my schedule, I might be able to”—

“Are those sirens?” you interrupt, and Yeonjun looks out to the street. He’s grown so accustomed to the sound of those things that it didn’t even register. “Where are you?” you ask.

“I’m… uh,” Yeonjun stammers, focusing on the cops getting out of the car and making their way towards the criminal.

He tunes into the cops’ conversation. “Looks like Spider-shit’s been here already,” one of them comments in a gruff voice.

The other cop huffs out a laugh. “He’s always meddling in with petty crimes. What do you think this guy did?”

“Jaywalking?” The cops chuckle.

“Not like he can explain with that over his mouth.” He points to the web Yeonjun placed on the man a minute ago.

Yeonjun scowls. He’s not sure why the cops hold so much scorn for him, but if they’d like to know, then the petty crime that Spider-shit helped stop was an armed robbery. If these guys were a little better at their jobs, he wouldn’t have to meddle in all the time.

“Hello?” you ask, and Yeonjun reels his attention back to his conversation with you.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just coming back from the store. Crazy stuff going on today.”

“Oh. Well, stay safe,” you say.

“Thanks, I will.” He sees the cops looking around, probably trying to spot him, so he flattens his back against the tree and tries to talk a little quieter. “I’ll see you in class, I gotta go.”

“See you!”

Yeonjun sighs once the call ends. His suit doesn’t even have pockets, he just carried his phone with him today in case you contacted him. Stupid? Mildly. Inconvenient? Very. He had one less hand to work with when dealing with today’s crime culprits. To hear your voice, though? Worth it. He smiles like an idiot as he swings over to the next nearest building, making his way back to his dorm.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s professor accompanies him to the lab today, overseeing the procedures for the day. The feeling of his professor watching over his shoulder is more nerve-wracking than any day spent fighting crime on the streets. He’s usually careful with his work in the lab, but he’s extra, extra careful on these days.

He pauses when he retrieves the petri dish of cells. He briefly considers the possibility that he’s crazy and just seeing things, but Yeonjun’s pretty sure that the clump of cells just moved. Like, uncanny movement. He holds his breath.

He stares at the clump, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. It doesn’t jerk around anymore, so maybe it was just his imagination. Fear still creeps up his neck at the idea of the research going wrong. He remembers feeling like he messed up at some point last time he was here, and the realization is making his skin grow clammy.

“What is it?” his professor asks, taking a step closer to Yeonjun.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” he quickly responds, keeping his voice calm and steady. He brings the petri dish to the table and does his best to forget what he saw earlier. Yeonjun fears how his professor would react if he told him something unprecedented might be occurring. It happened so quickly that he can’t even tell if his mind was just playing tricks on him. Maybe he’s just extra nervous today.

He wipes the sweat off his palms onto his lab coat, bringing the necessary materials to the table to continue the research. His professor reads off the instructions slowly, and Yeonjun pretends he doesn’t feel his stomach twisting as he works with the cells.

He tries to calm down as he walks back to his dorm, but there’s a permanent chill shooting down his spine. There’s no way the clump should have moved like that—it shouldn’t show any observable motion at all, not without some kind of electrical stimulation.

Maybe he just jerked the dish too harshly. He was pretty nervous, so it would make sense. He must have been shaking and just didn’t realize. That would explain it. That would put Yeonjun at ease.

He can try to convince himself that everything’s fine, but he can’t stop the anxious thrum of his heart. Apparently the fear reads on his face, too, because Soobin’s quick to notice it when Yeonjun enters the dorm.

“Are you okay?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun’s not sure what must have given himself away. He pays more attention to breathing slowly and talking casually.

“I’m good,” he answers. He doesn’t expect Soobin to push the subject considering how quiet he always is, but Soobin’s gaze isn’t leaving Yeonjun. He must be really concerned.

“Did something happen?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun sinks into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands as he groans. “Sorry,” his roommate apologizes, turning away from Yeonjun to look at his laptop instead.

“No, you’re good, it’s just…” Yeonjun sighs. He might as well get this off his chest. “Some lab thing.”

Soobin nods, not asking any further. Now that Yeonjun’s started though, he doesn’t feel like stopping.

“I think I might’ve fucked up,” Yeonjun admits.

“How?” Soobin’s playing some video game on his laptop as he talks, which actually puts Yeonjun at ease. It feels less pressing, less like an interrogation or a confession and more like a normal conversation.

“The cells I’m working with are being weird. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I saw it right. I just feel crazy now.” Yeonjun rubs his palms against his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, soothing the headache he’s got building up.

Soobin hums. The little shooting sounds and animated voices coming from Soobin’s game fill the room until Soobin speaks again, “Did anyone else see?”

“No. My professor was there, but he didn’t notice.”

Soobin shrugs. “You’re probably fine then.”

Honestly, Soobin’s nonchalance to the situation eases Yeonjun’s worries a lot. He knows he can get in his head sometimes, especially when it comes to doing everything right, so to hear he’ll be fine lifts a weight from his shoulders.

“Yeah, probably,” he agrees. He basks in comfortable silence for a minute now that his heart isn’t beating so hard.

“By the way, have you bought more laundry detergent yet?” Soobin asks.

Ah, shit. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Being Spider-man is tasking, but it’s usually pretty cool. Not everyone gets to zip around the city and restore peace in people’s neighborhoods. Not everyone, however, has to worry about getting stabbed by a criminal in the middle of the night.

Yeonjun always stays until the cops arrive. It almost feels essential, just to make sure justice gets served. This time, he can’t.

He has to stop himself from groaning too loud when he feels the knife pull out from his side. The man in front of Yeonjun is already stuck to the side of a building, held there with a thick layer of web, so there has to be someone else. He turns around to look at the perpetrator, but the world moves a lot slower than normal.

Yeonjun blinks hard, focusing on breathing and staying conscious. The coward who stabbed him is wearing a ski mask, and he’s running away quickly. Yeonjun can’t let him leave. He moves forward and ignores the searing pain that sets his body alight. He straightens out his shaky arm and aims his wrist at the man, but the web that shoots out is just as weak as Yeonjun is.

Frustrated, Yeonjun growls and forces himself to move faster. It burns, he’s never felt any kind of pain like this, but he can’t let this man walk free. He can’t let this man stab another innocent person. Even with his staggered pace, limping as he tries his best to catch up to the man, he advances quickly.

He breathes hard and holds the air in his lungs as he aims again at the man, brows furrowed with angry determination beneath his mask. He lets out a loud grunt as he shoots his web out, and finally, it lands. The criminal falls as the web captures his ankle, keeping his leg stuck to the ground.

Yeonjun huffs as he traverses the rest of the way toward the man, nothing but fury in his veins as he shoots another web out. This one’s bigger, covering the man’s back and securing him to the pavement. He picks up his head and looks at Yeonjun with fear in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. He can’t. All he feels is pain and anger and pain and pain and so much fucking pain.

Yeonjun’s not the vengeful type, but getting stabbed really tests a person’s limits. He shoots more webs over the guy, making sure he won’t be able to move a muscle until the cops arrive.

Yeonjun doesn’t waste his breath making snide comments, though he does have a few choice words for him. He takes off the man’s ski mask and resists the urge to deck his face. He’s got fear etched into his expression, but Yeonjun finds it hard to feel sorry for him. The man starts begging for his life, and Yeonjun scoffs. Of course he’s not going to kill this man—no matter what, he doesn’t end people’s lives. A city’s hero shouldn’t get to decide who lives and dies.

Yeonjun stumbles away after finding a passerby to call the police. Now that the adrenaline’s gone, Yeonjun feels less mad and more scared. He’s really bleeding now; his hand comes up soaked when it presses against the wound. What the hell does he do? He can’t die like this.

He can’t go to the hospital with a stab wound. There’s no way for him to make up some alibi that wouldn’t just trace Spider-man’s identity back to him. He hisses through gritted teeth as he frantically scans his surroundings, looking for somewhere to go. The only thing that’s coming to mind is you, and it’s aggravating. He could be dying right now, and all his useless mind can do is think of you. Maybe it’s all the blood loss, and he’s just getting delirious, or maybe it’s a sign. It’s not like he has many good options right now.

There’s not enough time to think about it. He zips through the city and back onto campus as fast as he can, ignoring the splitting pain in his side that shoots up his body every time he moves. It’s getting harder to breathe, suddenly feeling suffocated by his mask, but he has to hold on. He’s not far away now.

He remembers the view from your window. He remembers exactly which room to shoot himself up to. He adheres himself to the wall outside your room and pulls his mask off, leaning his forehead onto the cold glass of your window with a sigh of relief. He catches his breath and knocks with a shaky fist. He’s really sorry for having to wake you up at this hour, but he has a feeling you’ll understand.

He doesn’t wait long. You're trudging out of bed and making your way toward the window, tired eyes blinking slowly. You look really cute. Everything is spinning around him, but he focuses on you. You’re still groggy and out of it until you meet Yeonjun’s eyes through the glass. As soon as you see him, it’s like you wake up immediately.

He watches your jaw drop, your frantic hands racing to open your window. His vision is nearly blacking out, and he tries to blink away the dizzy feeling in his head the best he can.

“Yeonjun?!” you squeak as he drags himself through your window and into your room. He can’t even hold himself up anymore, weak body collapsing to the floor. He groans and leans against the wall, clutching his side. He ignores the sickening feeling of blood dampening his hand, sticky and warm against his palm and between his digits.

You pick him up by the underarms, grunting as you heave him toward your bed. He notices how shaky your arms are, and he tries his best to pick up his own weight, even if it hurts like hell. He’s burdening you enough as is coming here so late.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to go to,” he says, catching his breath as you guide him to lay on your bed. He’s half-aware of how bloody and dirty he is, but you seem fully ready to let him stain your sheets. Concern and confusion fill your wide eyes, and Yeonjun can hear every word that you don’t say.

Luckily, you save the unnecessary questions for later. “What do I do?” you ask. Your hands tremble as they peel the shirt of his suit up, just enough to expose his midriff and the nasty damage to his side. You gasp upon seeing how bad it is, hardly able to stomach it, opting to look into his eyes instead.

He wants to respond to you, if not to answer your question then just to comfort you, but breathing is enough of a chore on its own right now; talking seems almost impossible. Watching you panic about this is shattering him. He makes an effort to move his arm out toward you, just to hold your hand and reassure you, but he doesn’t have enough strength.

You lift from the bed and open up a bottle of water, pouring some of the cool liquid over his head. It’s relieving against his burning skin and keeps him from losing consciousness. It also makes him realize how dehydrated he is.

“Please sit up,” you beg, placing a hand underneath his head to lift it a bit. He comes up just enough to drink some of the water you feed to him, swallowing down the rest of the bottle. He collapses back against your pillow once he’s finished, feeling much better just from that.

You come back with another bottle of water and pour small bits at a time over the gash in his side. He hisses and tenses up each time it hits his skin, but he knows you have to do this. He doesn’t want to make it harder by thrashing around and complaining, so he bites his tongue and keeps his body stiff.

The sheets soak beneath him as you continue emptying the water bottle over the wound. He should help you clean up after this; he doesn’t want you dealing with his mess all alone. A few minutes pass before you discard the plastic bottle and grab a t-shirt from your dresser.

You press the bunched up cloth against his injured skin gently, and he holds back any grunts that threaten to slip out. It’s like you can sense his pain despite his efforts to hide it, because you keep murmuring apologies to him.

“I’m okay, don’t be sorry,” he reassures. He doesn’t think you believe him, judging by the way lips stay tugged into a frown.

A quietness falls over the room. You pull your t-shirt away from his body and observe the wound, and your fingertips on his torso send electricity throughout his body. It doesn’t hurt so much now.

“You’re not bleeding anymore,” you point out.

He hums. “That’s good.” Your hand grazes the skin just outside the gash. There’s a soothing effect in the way your fingers glide against him, pressure so light that it’s barely there.

“You need stitches,” you say quietly, like you hate to break the news to him.

Yeonjun doesn’t mind. “You got a needle?” he asks. You fidget with the fabric of Yeonjun’s suit as you sigh and look away.

“I do,” you say. You don’t sound too confident, though. He doesn’t know what to do to make you feel better.

You grab his hand like it’s second nature to do so, and the action would be romantic if only you didn’t have that nervous look on your face. He can practically feel your heart pounding, and he’s dying to let you know that everything’s okay.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. He makes sure he’s looking you in the eye so you can see how much he means it. He’s risking everything by trusting you, but he’s not scared. He feels safe even with his life in your hands, his secret identity in your knowledge. If there was something more sacred and dangerous to give up than that, he’s sure he’d be okay lending that to you too.

It feels much more real when you have your needle and thread in hand. Yeonjun can’t contain his noises anymore, whimpering in pain when he feels the sharp tip pierce his skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say quickly and desperately. “I’ll do it fast.”

He hisses as he feels the thread start to tug his wound shut. He throws an arm over his eyes, as if not watching you treat him will stop the piercing feeling. All his muscles are tensed up no matter how much he tries to relax, but he keeps his breathing steady and lets you do your work.

It’s not too long before you’re tying off the final knot and discarding your needle onto your nightstand. You run your thumb over the stitch, gentle and slow. Yeonjun takes his arm off his face and fixes his gaze on you, watching you scrutinize your work with scrunched brows.

“It feels fine. You did perfect,” he says, wanting to keep you from judging yourself too harshly. He wants to thank you, but the words feel so awkward building up in his throat.

“I don’t have a big enough bandage to put over this,” you say, still fixated on his injury. Yeonjun tries to sit up, but your hand on his shoulder eases him back down. “Don’t move too much.”

“Y/n…” he starts, but you give him a pointed look, and he decides to shut up and listen. He relaxes against your mattress.

“I wish I had some clothes to change you into,” you mutter after he pulls the shirt of his suit back down. The spandex isn’t super comfortable against his fresh stitches, but it’s easy to ignore in comparison to the searing pain of the open wound. He’ll have to throw out this suit; it’s bloodied beyond repair, and he has plenty of back-ups anyway.

“It’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You shuffle on the mattress until you’re laying down beside him. “Aren’t the sheets wet?” he asks, surprised at how unfazed you seem.

You let out a small laugh, and that frown finally leaves your face. “I don’t mind. I wanted to lay down.”

“I’ll buy you new sheets,” Yeonjun promises. “And a new needle. And I’ll explain everything to you, I swear. Please don’t”—

“Yeonjun,” you cut off. He shuts his mouth. “That stuff doesn’t matter. Are you okay now?”

He nods. “I’m okay.”

“That’s all I care about.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence. Yeonjun stares at the ceiling and wonders how much this is going to change things between you. He has some hope that this will make you two even closer, but a small part of him fears that you won’t want to associate with him anymore. He wouldn’t blame you; it’s not like being close to Spider-man isn’t a riskless situation. He doesn’t regret coming to you tonight, though.

He feels your eyes on him a moment later, and he can only bring himself to look at you for a second before returning his gaze to your ceiling. You must find that funny, because he hears you chuckling beside him.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when you said you’d hang out with me again.” There’s a softness in your voice that makes Yeonjun feel lightheaded. Not the losing-too-much-blood kind of lightheaded, but the oh-god-I-really-like-her kind—this one’s much more preferable and much more welcome than the former.

“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he says.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

He turns his head to face you, and something feels awfully domestic about getting to lay this close to you in your bed. It’s hard to breathe when you’re smiling at him so eagerly, when there’s a glint in your eyes that tells Yeonjun you’re having fun. There’s an itch all the way down to his bones that begs him to push forward and kiss you already, but he resists.

“I’ll find a way,” he whispers.

The room gets quiet again, and Yeonjun supposes he should leave. It’s not like he can wait for the sun to rise and walk out of your room in his bloodied Spidey-suit glory. He’s not sure what time it is right now, but he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon and get some sleep, he’ll be passing out in his classes.

“Thanks for fixing me up,” he says, pushing himself off your bed and stretching his limbs. He feels beyond sore, wincing at the pain that shoots through his body. You sit up immediately, scrambling to stop him.

“You’re leaving? Are you crazy? Stay here!” you insist, trying to drag him back to the bed. He turns his head to you and smiles, and something about the silent plea in your eyes lights up his heart. He keeps his feet on the ground and resists your efforts, even though he wants nothing more than to spend the night with you. It’s just not smart and not worth the risk.

“I can’t,” he says. You pout and stand before him, blinking up at him so prettily that he almost changes his mind. “It’s dangerous.”

“I know. I just wanted to keep you.” That makes Yeonjun giggle.

“Sorry. Maybe next time.”

You swat his chest. “Don’t let there be a next time. You almost scared me to death.”

“I’ll make sure to tell the next knife-bearer you said that,” Yeonjun jokes. It gets the laugh that he was hoping for out of you.

“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. Your smile is just as soft and sweet as your kiss was. “Just stay out of trouble,” you finish, patting his chest gently.

“I’ll try.”

“I guess I’ll see you in class, then,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He should go now. He should make use of his feet and back away, but he stays planted in his spot. You sway girlishly in front of him, hands clasped behind your back.

“Good night,” you whisper. Yeonjun can’t help it—he pulls your face in so he can feel your lips on his again, more properly this time. They’re pillowy and dreamy, and Yeonjun could just melt into you. He doesn’t linger longer than he has to, backing up just enough to see your face. You mirror the glee that he feels in his own expression.

“Good night,” he echoes. He backs away and grabs his mask, slipping it back on. He opens your window back up and slings himself to the nearest tree. Each time Yeonjun looks over his shoulder, he sees you leaning at your window smiling right back at him. His heart does a little flip. On second thought, maybe getting stabbed is kind of cool.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Despite how well last night went, Yeonjun wakes up with a heavy weight on his shoulders. Every ounce of confidence that his interaction with you last night might have given him is completely gone the moment he remembers it, and sheds away at itself further when he notices you skipped class. A dreadful thought creeps up his spine: are you avoiding him?

Maybe you woke up regretting it all. Maybe you realized how ridiculous and stupid getting involved with Spider-man is, and you’re just protecting yourself before you can be burdened further. The classroom feels hot and suffocating, and fresh air sounds really nice right now, but Yeonjun stays put in his seat. He doesn’t want to make a scene and start freaking everyone out. To the best of his ability, he pushes his fears down and saves his panic for later—preferably for after he talks to you and gets some answers.

He doesn’t even open his notebook in his last class of the day. He shows up just for attendance purposes, then zones out staring at his desk for the rest of the hour. Time passes far too slowly; Yeonjun’s itching for the lecture to end so he can talk to you already. He’s practically running out of class as soon as it’s dismissed, but finds himself slowing down the moment he’s outside the building.

He’s pretty sure he knows where to find you. The bigger issue is figuring out what the hell he’s going to say. Is there any way to start this conversation without being awkward? Hey, thanks for saving my life last night. Also I am indeed that hero or whatever taking care of criminals in the city, hope you don’t mind! He feels so lame.

It’s wishful thinking to hope that you won’t care about what happened last night—well, except for the kissing part, but that’s probably not as important right now. He’ll push aside that conversation until the more important one happens.

He wants to run away the moment he sees your figure in the distance, sitting exactly where he thought you’d be. His tongue suddenly feels like lead, too heavy and useless to try talking to you. He gathers his breath and walks across the field, not letting himself back out now. You deserve to be given a little peace of mind. He’s sure today must have been confusing for you, that clarity hit you like a train this morning the same way it did to him.

You look over your shoulder when he reaches you, staring up at him and squinting your eyes from the sun. “How’d I know you’d come find me?” you ask, half-amused.

Yeonjun gives you a short laugh, unsure of himself as he sits on the grass beside you. It feels a little like he’s invading your space. He’s seen you sitting alone on this field as if it was all yours so many times.

“I thought I should thank you again,” he says, a little shy. He feels like he owes you a lot for last night. The whole city probably owes you a lot for saving him, honestly.

You look at him with a small smile, leaning your head on your bent knees. “Mhm. Shouldn’t I be thanking you, Spider-man?” There’s a teasing quality to your voice, and it makes Yeonjun laugh nervously. He should probably address that.

“I really hope you won’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t. I’m still finding it hard to believe anyway,” you say. Your sentences are all laced with a tiredness and exhaustion that Yeonjun can’t help but to feel at fault for. “It’s just weird to know it now.”

Yeonjun hums. He can sympathize with you on that—it must be really bewildering to know your classmate is the one swinging around town shooting webs at criminals. He just hopes you can forgive him for dragging you into this.

“Spider-man’s a little less cool now, huh?” he jokes, keeping his voice quiet even though no one’s around.

Your smile is full and genuine, and Yeonjun’s heart skips a beat. “I always thought he was a little lame,” you answer. Yeonjun’s ego bruises at that. You continue, “But I think he’s kind of interesting now.”

He can only hope that you don’t see the blush that takes over his face. He looks away to hide it, but he feels your gaze on him. “I don’t know if I’m that interesting,” he says, acting all humble. It’s clearly bait, and he hopes you’ll catch it.

“I can be the judge of that. Let me get to know you more,” you offer. Yeonjun bites his cheek to stop himself from grinning at this massive win.

“Well, we still have that bakery to go to,” Yeonjun mentions, and judging by the way your eyes gain a new sparkle, you seem to like the idea.

“You don’t have any more classes today, do you?” You already look ready to go.

Yeonjun doesn’t bother hiding his excitement anymore, letting his smile take over his face. “I don’t.” You’re standing up the next second, and Yeonjun’s quick to follow.

The bakery is a cute, cozy little place near some other restaurants downtown. There’s no seating inside due to the lack of space, but that’s made up for by the giant row of sweet selections to choose from. Yeonjun’s stomach rumbles in anticipation as his eyes jump around to look at each confection.

After buying your treats, you lead Yeonjun to a nearby bench. You both open your pastry boxes and bite down on the baked goods eagerly. You hum in satisfaction, nodding at the taste. “Wow, we should go here again,” you say, going in for another bite.

Yeonjun chose a sweet cheese bread, which he completely devours within a couple minutes. You don’t eat as fast as him, but he doesn’t mind waiting for you. He makes conversation in the meantime: “How come you skipped class today?”

You laugh a little around your mouthful of food, swallowing before you answer, “I barely slept. There was no way I could’ve focused if I went.”

Yeonjun hums in understanding. “I barely slept too,” he says.

“But you still went,” you add. “I guess you’re better than me.”

Oh god, he hopes you didn’t take it that way. “Not at all!” he rushes to say.

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know. You’re just a star student, that’s all.”

Is that a compliment? Yeonjun blushes anyway. “I like to do well,” he says.

“I mean, considering everything you’re balancing, yeah, you are doing pretty well.”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly in response, barely able to take your praise. He’s pretty sure you’re alluding to what you found out about him yesterday. “Thanks,” he mutters, all humble.

“Do you wanna talk about last night?” you ask, finishing your last bite.

“Sure,” Yeonjun answers, feeling a smidge of nervousness returning to him. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “Did you have any questions?” he asks. He feels more bashful than anything else, but it’s better than coming off as braggadocious.

You hum in thought, pouting your lips while you conjure up some ideas. “Was that your first kiss?”

He’s completely taken aback by your question—and a little embarrassed, quite frankly—and he scrambles to spit out a response. You’re stifling your laughter before he can even get his defense out. “No! I had my first kiss in, like, high school!”

“I’m just teasing,” you admit. “You’re a good kisser.” The compliment goes to Yeonjun’s head, playing in a loop while he floats on cloud nine. You liked kissing him. He should do it again and again, just to keep you happy. And for more selfish reasons, too.

Your voice breaks through his thoughts when you speak again, “Do you feel better today? Are you healing alright?” The joking tone leaves your voice, replaced with genuinity and care.

“I feel fine,” he answers. He pulls up his shirt to show you the wound, all stitched up and starting to heal over.

You wince. “Good thing I finished my food already. That killed my appetite.” Yeonjun laughs at your grimace and releases his shirt, falling back into place. “You should really put a bandage over that,” you suggest.

“I don’t have any.”

You shake your head in disbelief, though your amusement reads on your face. “You should be more prepared.”

Your concern is cute to Yeonjun. “I know,” he says.

“So who stabbed you?” you ask.

He shrugs. “No clue. He’s probably in a cell now.”

“Did it hurt?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Like hell,” he says.

“How’d it even happen?” Honestly, Yeonjun’s not too sure about that either. He can usually sense imminent danger before it comes, but maybe he was too focused on the crimes he’d already been dealing with.

“He came up behind me while I was handling another criminal,” he answers.

You hum, getting off the bench and tossing your trash in a bin nearby. You start walking off then, and Yeonjun follows mindlessly. “Must be tough being Spider-man,” you say.

“Careful how loud you say that.” Yeonjun tenses as someone walks past the two of you, praying they were out of earshot when you said that. He sighs in relief when he sees the person had headphones in.

“Right, sorry. There’s just so much I wanna know now.” You turn a corner, taking a path leading back to campus.

Your curiosity excites Yeonjun, and he’s ready to answer whatever question you come up with. Some of his stories have serious entertainment value to them.

“Ask me, then,” he invites. You twist your head to smile up at him for a second.

“How’d you get like this? Were you just born this way?”

Yeonjun laughs at the idea. He swings his head around to make sure no one’s around when he answers, “No, a radioactive spider bit me.”

“When did that happen?” you ask. Yeonjun reminisces the first few weeks after the bite, thinking back to those initial feelings of fear and dread when he realized something had happened to him.

“In high school,” he says. It was super bewildering back then to change so drastically, yet be forced to act so normal. It’s much easier now—he’s had years to adjust—but he was a teenager when it first happened. That’s a lot for a kid to take on. He had to act like he was the same Choi Yeonjun his classmates had grown up with, and not some mutated superhuman dealing with the stresses of his new identity. Of course, he did that whole Spider-man thing to himself, but it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t regret it.

“Does anyone else know?”

“My uncle did, but he’s gone, so now it’s just you.” He looks at you, lips twitching upward.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you apologize, voice growing soft. He realizes that you’re in front of your dorm building now, and he supposes this is where he should leave. His eyes dart between yours, like he’s waiting for you to tell him to go. To ask him to stay.

“Are you doing anything today?” he asks. Maybe he sounds desperate. He doesn’t really care.

“Catching up on some work,” you say.

“I’ll give you my calculus notes.”

You smile. “That would be nice.”

Yeonjun didn’t even take notes in calculus today. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“Can I stay?” He’s teeming with hope and bravery today. You open the door to your building and signal him inside, and he has to hold back the victorious giggle that almost escapes him as he trails behind you.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of questions and answers. Yeonjun’s never talked so openly about being Spider-man before, and a part of it feels healing. You study hard while he rambles about stories of the little things he’s done throughout the years. Some are funny and make you cackle, and some draw your attention away from your textbook so you can look at him in shock. It’s impossible for Yeonjun to wipe the grin off his face—not when he bids you good night, not when he walks back to his dorm, not even when lays in bed to sleep. His heart never lets up on that jittery rush it has for you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

A quintessential part of the college experience, Yeonjun’s come to find out, is trying out all the different ramen brands to see which one is the best. He’s a fan of whichever one he’s chowing down on right now, and a 5-pack of this barely puts a dent in his bank account. Seems like a winner.

He glances over at his dorm’s door when it opens, curious to see that Soobin brought someone over. Yeonjun isn’t bothered by that, though; if this guy is anything like Soobin, he’s not worried about getting annoyed.

“You can remember to buy ramen but not detergent?” Soobin asks, chuckling. Yeonjun chooses to read that as a joke instead of a passive aggressive comment.

“Ugh, dude, I keep forgetting, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. Yeonjun points at Soobin’s friend and continues, “This your friend?”

“Yeah, I’m Beomgyu,” the friend introduces. Something about him looks a little familiar.

“Nice to meet you,” Yeonjun greets with a nod.

Soobin grabs some clothes from his closet then turns to the door. “I’m gonna go change and then we can head out,” he says to Beomgyu, then heads off to the bathroom.

When the door shuts, Yeonjun returns his attention to his ramen and ignores Beomgyu’s presence as best as he can. That doesn’t last too long, though, cause soon enough, Beomgyu’s breaking the silence: “Are you still hanging out with Y/n?”

Yeonjun turns in his seat to face Beomgyu. He’s not sure how Beomgyu would know that, but Yeonjun entertains the question nevertheless. “Yeah. You know her?” he asks.

“She’s my friend,” he says. “Kind of.”

Yeonjun already feels something weird in the air. He’s waiting for the turn that this conversation is bound to take. He finally pieces together why this guy looks so familiar; he’s one of the boys at the party in the group that you kept looking over at. Now Yeonjun’s really curious.

“Why do you ask?” The question comes out a little hesitantly.

“I’m telling you this man-to-man, I think you might be getting played,” Beomgyu says.

Yeonjun’s immediate reaction is only confusion. How would you be playing him? You’ve been nothing but sincere with your feelings—or, that’s what it seemed like, at least. Now Yeonjun’s doubting himself. A part of him doesn’t believe it and doesn’t want to indulge in this conversation any further, but he’d start spiraling whether or not Beomgyu explains himself now. Worry swirls in Yeonjun’s stomach.

“Why?” he asks despite himself.

“This is just what I’ve heard, but apparently she had a thing with Kai, and he started talking to another girl, so she wanted to get back at him. I don’t know, though.”

Kai. That boy who came up to you at the party. Yeonjun remembers him.

He doesn’t want to show how much those words affect him, but shit. Hearing that hurts. His body feels weightless, like he’d be falling over if he wasn’t sitting at his desk. He nods as he exhales slowly, keeping his heart from going haywire.

“Huh,” is all he says. Soobin comes back the next second, and Beomgyu heads out with him after that, and the world keeps spinning on, but Yeonjun feels trapped in that moment. He waits to wake up in a sweat, hoping this is all some nightmare that’s going to end, but the wake never comes. He’s forced to deal with his whirling thoughts instead.

None of this can be true. It wouldn’t make sense. You kissed Yeonjun. You said you were interested in him. If this was all a lie, how will Yeonjun ever trust anyone again? When he came to you bleeding out, you saved his life. When you found out his secret identity, you kept it safe. Yeonjun miscalculated something that night—there is something more sacred and dangerous to trust you with than those things: his heart.

He doesn’t even want to finish his ramen anymore. His fingers brush against the wound that’s healing pretty well thanks to you, and a thought crosses his mind. The night that you kissed him was the night you found out he was Spider-man. An especially sickening question starts to haunt him. Did you only start liking him because of that?

Yeonjun feels played. He’s always known that he was a fool, so he doesn’t know why he’s so surprised, but really? Beer pong lord?

Five minutes is hardly enough to process the information Beomgyu dumped onto Yeonjun, but that’s all he gets, because now his alarm is going off and telling him to go over to the lab. He drops his head to his desk with a groan. It’s like an anchor’s been tied to his heart, sinking further and further until it makes him his stomach churn.

The fresh air feels good in Yeonjun’s lungs as he walks over to the lab. A permanent pout is etched onto his lips, unable to stop thinking about you. Good things. Bad things. Everything. Each memory hurts now.

He probably looks like some depressed college kid, walking around with his hood up and head down. He should be less pathetic, pick himself up and get himself together. It’s not like you two were really anything anyway. A kiss doesn't always mean something to everyone. Maybe it’s his fault for assuming that for you, it did.

It’s not just that, though. Yeah, kissing you made Yeonjun feel alive in a way that only swinging through the city could compare to, but there’s so much more to you than that. It’s the way you talked to him, the way you cared for him, the way you looked at him. How the hell do you fake that kind of connection? Hurt splits him at the seams like he’s being torn in two, but he keeps walking like nothing’s wrong.

“Yeonjun!” He recognizes that voice immediately. He pulls his eyes off the sidewalk and catches sight of you walking up to him. He almost forgot that he walks past your little field on the way to his lab.

It feels like he’s the one keeping a secret, palms clamming up as you stand in front of him. He stops in his tracks to allow you the conversation. “Hey,” he says.

“What are you up to?” you ask. He fidgets with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Should he just act normal? Should he let you get away with using him? When he thinks about it like that, it puts a sour taste in his mouth.

“I’m headed to the lab. Got some stuff to do, and it’s time sensitive, so…” he trails off awkwardly, looking off into the distance instead of at you.

“Oh, okay,” you say, sounding a little dejected. Yeonjun shouldn’t be feeling bad for you right now, but he can’t help it. It makes his chest clench to hear the joy leave your voice. “Maybe we can hang out after? Just to study or something,” you offer.

Yeonjun sighs, “Maybe.”

You’re quiet for a second as you assess him. “Are you okay?” Concern fills your voice, and when he brings his vision back to you, he can see it in your eyes too.

“I’ll talk to you about it later,” he says.

You frown, taking in his flat expression. You must gain some insight from that, because then you’re asking, “Did I do something?”

He wants to hold his head, feeling defeated and frustrated and sad and a million other different things. He’s not sure how to label it. He’s never felt emotions this complex before, probably because he’s never liked anyone this much before.

“Oh god, did I?” you repeat, more fear in your voice at Yeonjun’s lack of a response. It strikes him and deflates his will to be dismissive about it, not wanting you to sit here worrying for the rest of the day. Curse his soft heart.

“Just come with me,” Yeonjun says, continuing on the path to his lab building. You follow beside him, taking long strides to match his quick pace. He notices you struggling to keep up, so he slows down, even though it might make him a few minutes late.

���I’m sorry,” you apologize. He can feel you looking at him, but he keeps his eyes ahead.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he mumbles.

“Tell me then,” you plead. The thought of having to talk about this with you makes him feel sick. He doesn’t know if he can even choke up the words without getting nauseous.

“Let me clock into my lab first.” The rest of the walk is silent; you keep quiet even as you enter the room with him, watching him take off his sweatshirt and put on his lab coat. You’re quiet even as he goes through the study procedure, not even lingering near him to see what he’s doing. He feels a little cruel for it, wondering if he’s just torturing you by forcing you to stand silently and worry about what he must be upset at you for.

He steals a glance at you. You’re leaning against the wall by the door, so many steps away, keeping so much distance. He bites his lip and looks away, figuring it’s time to start the conversation.

“I want to talk to you, but I don’t want you to lie to me,” Yeonjun says, breaking the long stretch of silence. He walks toward you, stopping before he gets too close.

“I won’t. I’m not gonna hide anything from you.” It’s funny you say that.

“Do you like Kai?” His question catches you off guard, your frown leaving your face.

“No,” you answer.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay. So why did Beomgyu tell me you used me to get back at him?”

He watches you stiffen at the question. “How do you know Beomgyu?” you ask.

“Please just answer me,” Yeonjun says. He doesn’t want to run around in circles, he just wants to hear the truth from you.

“I don’t like Kai anymore.” Something about that sentence hits like a stab to the gut. Yeonjun would know the feeling.

He tsks and shakes his head, ready to walk away and end the conversation, but you continue, “Please let me say the whole story.” Yeonjun sighs and meets your eyes. He decides to hear you out, only because a part of him is dying for you to make this right.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“I invited you to the party because you’re my friend, and I think you’re cute, but also for really petty, stupid revenge. It was so dumb and I’m so sorry, I feel so fucking bad for that now,” you explain. Yeonjun thinks back to how excited he was when you asked him. He remembers the rush of butterflies, the nervousness that pooled in his stomach, the adrenaline through his veins when he realized he finally had your attention.

You continue, “But I swear on my life, Yeonjun, the second we went outside at that party, I realized how unfair it was. I wanted to make Kai jealous, but when we were standing out there, I couldn’t do it. You’re a good person, and I felt fucking awful, and I didn’t go through with anything, and I’m glad I didn’t. You gave me one of the best nights of my life that day. I mean that. Seriously.”

There’s sincerity in your eyes, so Yeonjun knows you’re not lying. The ache in his chest is dull now, but still there. He can’t believe you planned to use him as some pawn to get back at Kai.

“Why’d I have to hear it from someone else? Why couldn’t you tell me yourself?” he asks. It’s pathetic how his voice carries more heartbreak than anger.

“Cause I didn’t want you to misunderstand and leave!” you explain, desperate. “Yeonjun, please. I don’t care about Kai anymore. I haven’t even talked to him since the party.”

Yeonjun wishes he could feel comforted by your words, but all he feels is hurt. He has this terrible thing where he can’t stop asking questions that will only batter him worse. “So you didn’t really like me?”

You take a step closer to him, placing both hands over your heart. Yeonjun’s not blind; he can see the fear in your eyes, the worry that he might walk away. He doesn’t have it in him to relieve your stress right now.

“I always liked you. I like you more every day,” you answer. There’s honesty in your words, which Yeonjun appreciates. It doesn’t quite melt away his insecurities, though.

Yeonjun can’t bear looking at you any longer, dropping his gaze to the floor and stepping back. He’s ready to leave, thinking he needs the night to himself to stare at the ceiling and contemplate this whole situation.

You stop him before he can get too far. Your hand hooks onto the sleeve of his lab coat, shaking as you cling to him. It’s so pitiful that it ruins the monstrous image Yeonjun’s trying to fit you into in his mind. Against his better judgment, his eyes meet yours again.

He’s about to speak—maybe to console you, to get some of that sadness out of your eyes—but the sound of glass breaking behind him makes him turn with wide eyes, searching for the damage. He’ll be the one stuck replacing any broken equipment; he can only pray that it wasn’t a more expensive piece.

His eyes flit across the room, but he finds nothing. Is he seriously losing his mind? Every time he’s in this lab, there’s something new giving him a mini heart attack. He brushes this off as some kind of paranoia. He considers talking to his professor about taking a break from the lab, just until he can restore his sanity.

“Let’s just head out of here,” Yeonjun says, unable to rid himself of the chill down his spine.

“Do you still like me?” you ask, unable to move on from the conversation. You stay planted in your spot as Yeonjun takes off his lab gear. He groans internally at your question—of course he still likes you. Do you think his feelings are so malleable? His adoration for you feels like an immovable boulder. He can’t even stay mad at you for as long as he wanted to, though he tries not to let you win too easily.

He sighs out your name instead of answering. He waits for you at the door as he throws his sweatshirt back on, and you trudge forward with a pout. Once his sweatshirt is slipped over his head, he catches sight of something behind you, heart stopping entirely.

“What the hell—?!” he emits, eyes growing wide as the cell clump he’d been working with expands out past its storage spot, spilling out onto the floor. The broken glass earlier must’ve been from the petri dish—shit, he should’ve checked. It’s discolored now, so dark it’s nearly black, and growing more rapidly than it should be able to.

You spin on your feet to see what Yeonjun’s looking at, yelping when you see the growth. You back up quickly and bump into Yeonjun’s chest. “What’s happening?” you ask, turning your head back to look up at him.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He has to think fast, because it doesn’t look like the cell replication is stopping any time soon—if anything, it looks like it’s growing exponentially. The clump is a goo-like substance, slowly spilling out further and further onto the floor, looking something like tar as it expands out. “We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” he says.

“How do we do that?” you ask. Yeonjun’s not sure either, so he doesn’t bother to answer. He opens one of the cabinets and pulls out all the different liquid chemicals he can find. One of these is bound to do something.

You hold yourself and watch him carefully, still looking shy and desperate and nervous from your argument. Yeonjun’s not sure why you seem to be more bothered by him not reassuring you that he likes you than by the clump that grows behind you. Your attention remains on him the whole time.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“No,” he answers sharply and quickly. He has bigger issues to be worried about than staying mad at you.

“I promise I wasn’t lying. I won’t talk to Kai ever again.”

“Why are we having this conversation right now?!” Yeonjun asks, frustrated.

“Because it’s important to me that you know!”

He ignores you in favor of unscrewing the lid to one of the acids, hoping it could digest the cells. When he pours it onto the clump, a loud hiss rings through the room and smoke comes up from the mass. It doesn’t seem to dissolve the cells, though.

He emits an exasperated groan, opening the lid to another chemical substance, and you rush to do the same. He can’t stop to think about how dangerous this is, too focused on controlling the problem before it gets irreparable. You and Yeonjun pour chemicals onto it at the same time, and it seems to react. The tar-like blob thickens now, erecting itself up from the floor languidly.

You and Yeonjun back up, watching with fearful eyes as it stands. It moves like it’s alive, like it’s a living organism. It’s eerily silent for a room as you two stare at the mass in shock. Then, rapidly, it comes charging at you, attaching itself to your cardigan as you shriek. Yeonjun acts fast, running to you and grabbing your waist, adhering his feet to the floor to keep you from getting dragged any more. You shed your cardigan quickly before tugging it back from the blob. It tears from how harsh you pull it, but you don’t seem to care, chucking it to the opposite side of the room.

This is an unfortunate time to see you in a tight-fitting tank top. Your chest heaves from the panic of being grabbed by the organism, rising and falling as you start to steady your breath. You look over at him, and he finds himself blushing and removing his gaze from you in embarrassment. God, now he’s the one struggling to focus on the bigger problem.

Yeonjun directs his wrist at the blob, shooting a web at it to keep it from charging at you again. The web sends the mass flying back until it collides with the wall. Though it can’t remove itself from the confines of the web, it still slowly grows, and it will be able to expand enough to attack again soon. Still, this should buy you two some more time.

“You should leave,” Yeonjun says, coming to you and cupping your face. His eyes beg you to go, strung up on the possibility of you getting hurt.

“I won’t,” you say, grabbing onto his wrists.

“Please. You’re too important.” His hand strokes through your hair like you’re something precious.

You take his hand and kiss it. “You are too. I won’t leave.”

He sighs. He knows he’s not winning this, there’s too much determination in your words. Before he removes his focus from you, he thinks he should tell you one last thing. “Just so you know, I like you too.”

You’re barely able to hold back your smile, but Yeonjun can’t stay and watch your reaction. The mass continues to grow over the confines of the web, and he has to find a way to control it before it overcomes the binds. He opens the binder that holds the descriptions of all the lab materials, hoping he can find something useful in there. His eyes flit across the words, scanning for the chemicals that will be his saving grace.

He stops when he reads the description for nitric acid. The words digest and dissolve kick his body to life, hope stirring inside of him. “Come here with the nitric acid!” he shouts over his shoulder.

“Which one is that?” you ask hurriedly, scanning through the different bottles of chemicals.

“It’s in a brown translucent bottle. Quick!” Before he can panic further, you’re racing to his side with a bottle of the acid. Yeonjun quickly pours it over the mass, watching it shrivel when the liquid hits its surface. A weight lifts off Yeonjun’s shoulders when he realizes he finally found something that works. The bottle doesn’t hold nearly enough, though, because Yeonjun empties it out before he can melt the organism completely.

He turns to you expectantly, and you’re rushing back to the counter where all the chemical substances are held. You’re turning each to read the labels, growing more aggravated as you fail to find another container of nitric acid. You curse as you swing the cabinet doors open, checking if there’s any stored away in there.

You pull out a bottle from the cabinet, reading it quickly. “Would sulfuric acid work?” you ask, looking at Yeonjun like you need him to say yes.

“It would react with the nitric acid,” he answers. You groan.

“You think I know any of this stuff?!” You go back to searching through the cabinet.

“Yes! You’re, like, the smartest girl I know!” Yeonjun exclaims, equally as frustrated.

“You must not know a lot of girls then,” you huff. You finally pull out a bottle that seems to match, running over to Yeonjun. He takes it from your hands and pours the liquid over what remains of the clump, watching it dissolve until all that’s left is a murky puddle on the floor. He plops the nitric acid onto a table, finally letting himself take a full breath. He tastes the chemicals swirling in the air, but he can’t bring himself to care about any toxins filling his lungs. He’s worn out, crouching down in exhaustion with a groan.

When he picks his head up from between his arms, he searches for you. You’re bent over one of the tables, head tucked between your arms as half your body rests over the surface. You must be just as drained as him. He stretches his body out as he stands back up, then approaches you at the opposite side of the table. He rests his elbows onto the tabletop, leaning forward to be closer to you.

“You get feisty when you’re working under pressure,” Yeonjun teases, breathless laugh escaping him. You lift your head to look at him, and he can see how you hold back your amusement.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond. You seem winded, still breathing hard as you push yourself off the table and pick up your cardigan from the floor. You hold up your cardigan and examine the damage. It’s stained and ripped and looks disgusting. You pout. “This was my favorite one…”

“Don’t worry, you’re pretty good at stitching things back up,” Yeonjun says, coming up to you and taking the cardigan from your hands to tie it around your waist. You look up at him, something fond shining in your eyes.

“I guess I am,” you say, tugging on Yeonjun’s sweatshirt to pull him closer to you. You wear a dopey smile as you stare at him, hands resting on his shoulders, and Yeonjun really hopes that you do what he knows you’re both thinking about right now.

You don’t leave him waiting long; your hand comes to his jaw to bring his face to yours, and the next second, Yeonjun’s having the best kiss of his life. It feels like a reward after the shitshow that today’s been. For it to come to this, he’d relive it a dozen more times.

“Wait,” Yeonjun says, pulling back. “Are we dating now?”

“Haven’t we been dating?” You look at him like he’s a fool, and it endears Yeonjun endlessly.

“I mean, boyfriend-girlfriend dating,” Yeonjun explains.

“Oh, I’ve already told, like, three people that you’re my boyfriend.” There might be real hearts in Yeonjun’s eyes right now.

“Good,” he says, coming in for another quick kiss. “I’m all yours.” His words are uttered against your lips, since he can’t seem to pull himself away from you.

You gladly accept his kisses, and he has to keep himself from getting too drunk off your taste. He has to remember he’s still in a lab with a bunch of chemicals filling the air—it’s probably a good idea to get out. Even though he doesn’t want to, Yeonjun steps back and looks around at the mess throughout the room. Given everything that happened, it’s not awful. A mop would take care of ninety percent of the problem.

“We should clean this up,” he sighs.

“Yeah,” you agree. Neither of you make a move. You start laughing after a few seconds, and Yeonjun returns his attention to you with a cheeky grin.

“No, let’s just leave,” he suggests. He’s exhausted. He’ll explain everything to his professor tomorrow, he can’t take any more of this today.

“Should we go back to my place then?” you ask. Yeonjun does a very poor job of hiding his excitement. He wants more than anything to hold you to his chest and zip across campus to get to your dorm, but alas, he does the smart thing instead. A ten minute walk has never felt more like ten hours in his life, and seeing your dorm building finally come into view has his heart racing in anticipation.

Yeonjun’s all over you the minute your door closes behind him. He doesn’t let your lips disconnect for a second—not to talk, not to breathe, because nothing’s more important than tasting your lips on his.

Your back falls to your mattress, and Yeonjun’s mind briefly wanders to the last time you two were here. Having you sprawled out beneath him is quite different than you patching him up above him. In a way, that moment felt like the start of something bigger between you. The initial spark came long before it, but that night is what caused fire to catch. He feeds the flame now, fingers untying the cardigan at your waist and throwing it to the floor. Your shirt’s the next thing to go, and he only pulls away long enough to shed the cloth off of you.

His mouth on yours is ravenous and unwilling to waste any more time. He feels up your stomach, cherishing the warm flesh with eager fingers. He trails his hands up to your chest, feeling your breasts over your bra. You gasp when he squeezes experimentally, and it encourages him to continue, movements growing hungry.

You break away from the kiss, panting for air while Yeonjun latches onto your jaw. He’s insatiable, sucking your skin and placing kitten licks over the mark after. He hovers his face over yours, biting back his grin when he sees how hazy your eyes have become.

You catch his face in your hand, cupping his jaw and thumbing his cheek. The action makes his heart soar, and he leans into your warm touch. Your smile turns from soft to wicked when you push your thumb between his lips, and he engulfs the digit without a fight.

“I like you,” you say as he sucks your thumb, blinking up at him adoringly like he’s not doing some lewd act right now. He swirls his tongue around you before popping it out of his mouth, kissing your fingertip then taking your hand in his own.

“I like you too.” His free hand goes behind your back to search for your bra clasp, fumbling with it clumsily until he gets it to disconnect. You pull the material off, and Yeonjun’s cock twitches in his pants when he takes in the sight of you. A part of him feels wrong for doing this, like this is too dirty, but a larger part of him can’t wait to indulge in you. He’ll just make sure to take you out for dinner after.

Yeonjun throws his sweatshirt and shirt to the floor, pride swirling inside him when he sees the way you ogle at his skin. You lay your hand over his chest, trailing your fingers over the expanse teasingly. He takes your wrist and drags your hand away.

“You don’t deserve to touch me. I’m still upset about Kai,” he says. It’s a lie, but he’s in a playful mood. Your hand makes its way back to his chest despite that, so he grabs it and brings it to the bed, shooting a web over your wrist so you can’t move it. He giggles. The whole web-slinging thing comes with some perks.

“Oh, come on,” you sulk as he does the same to your other wrist. He leans back for a moment, looking down at you all proud. A few different sights flash through his mind, endless possibilities of how he could make the most of your hands being restrained. Maybe he should punish you for ever liking Kai in the first place, keep you on the edge until you’re chanting apologies into the air. He could also just indulge in your body greedily, taste every inch of you without your hands pulling him away. The ache in his pants grows at the thought.

You sigh in satisfaction when his hand meets your clothed core. Your hips grind against his hand, and he allows you to use him to find your pleasure. Your hands close into fists as Yeonjun lets you ride his open palm, still fighting against your restraints.

“How much do you like me?” Yeonjun asks. His free hand holds your waist, fingers brushing against your skin gently.

“So much,” you answer, never abandoning your rhythm. “You’re so smart, and handsome, and funny, and—nngh—and good to me…” Yeonjun’s hand travels from your waist to your chest in reward, thumb rolling over one of your nipples.

“Yeah, I am good to you. I stay with you even though you’re mean to me.”

You shake your head at his statement. “I’m not mean to you,” you say.

He laughs at how you try to control yourself, how serious your tone gets. Your hips slow, so he takes measures into his own hands and moves his palm against your cunt instead. If he presses down hard enough, he can feel how wet you are even through your pants.

“You are,” he says. “You use me to get other men.” He knows that’s not true now, but a part of him is still a little bruised by the idea. He figures that airing out his insecurities like this might help him, and it makes him feel less vulnerable.

“No! That’s not true!” Yeonjun ignores you and takes off your pants, letting them join the other articles of clothing on your floor. He short circuits when he sees the wet patch on your panties. A sense of shame must fill you then, because your legs clamp shut to block his view.

“Hey, be nice,” he says, opening your legs back up. He holds you open as he presses his knee to your folds, and he can feel your arousal even through the fabric of his sweatpants. He’s squealing internally, overjoyed to have you soaking for him, but he keeps his calm on the outside.

Your hands push against the webs again, shaking the mattress a little. You pout at him. “I want to touch you,” you whine.

“Sorry about that,” he says. He matches your pout as his hands smooth down your legs, lazily exploring your flesh. He grabs your hips and positions them up a little so that you’re pressing into his thigh. He hears the moan that gets caught in your throat as he drags your cunt against him, holding back a satisfied smirk.

“Should I tell you what I like about you?” Yeonjun asks, something silky and smooth in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips over his thigh. “Say pleaseeeee,” he prompts.

“Please,” you echo. He giggles.

“Again.” He’s having fun.

“Please, Yeonjun,” you beg, sweet voice dripping with need.

He releases your hips so he can pull off your panties, tugging you back onto him once you kick the cloth off your ankles. He can really feel how wet you are now, and it makes a knot form in his stomach. He wants you more than anything.

“I like how pretty you are,” he starts, leaning over you to press kisses against your neck. “And I like how cool you are.” His mouth travels a little lower, sucking at your collarbone. “And I like how I can talk to you for hours and never get bored.” His lips smother your chest, just above your tits, familiarizing himself with every inch of your skin. Your hips buck against him when he presses his thigh more firmly between your legs. “And I like how wet you get,” he laughs.

His mouth finds your breasts then, tongue swirling teasingly around one of your buds. Your nipples perk up, begging for his attention. He drags his tongue over to your other mound, sucking at the swell of flesh, moaning against you. The taste of your skin in his mouth makes him feel high.

You whine, hips rolling more fervently against him, chasing your approaching high. Yeonjun busies himself with delivering kitten licks to your nipples, watching the way they glisten with his saliva after he runs his tongue across them a few times. He peels himself off of you when your rhythm gets unsteady, not wanting you to cum yet. There’s a look of betrayal on your face as he disconnects from you, not touching you at all anymore.

“Yeonjun,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in. “I need to cum.” Your needy cunt grinds against the tent in his boxers, hungrily trying to get yourself off. He lets you have your fun for a minute, enjoying the feel of your warm, wet slit coating his clothed cock, before holding your hips still and keeping you from moving. That doesn’t stop you from digging your heels into his back, pushing him harder against you.

He removes your legs from him, holding you open as he plunges two fingers into your cunt. Your heat takes him in so nicely, the slide of his digits inside you made so easy from how slick your cunt is. You arch your back, moaning out as he curls his fingers inside you.

“Tight girl, gotta stretch you out,” he says, scissoring his digits to prepare you. Your arousal pools out of you, dripping onto the mattress as Yeonjun fucks you on his fingers. “Need to get you ready for me.”

“Mhm, need your dick,” you say. You look so helpless like this, laying back and letting Yeonjun fuck his fingers into you however he wants. He increases his speed just because he can, knowing you can’t pry his hand away, grinning when you emit a surprised gasp. Your walls start tightening around his fingers, a warning of your orgasm, and Yeonjun pulls his hand away before you can get there.

You’re whining his name again, thighs clamping shut to relieve the pressure. He shushes you as he tugs his boxers out of the way, stroking his cock as he watches the way you tremble. Poor thing.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks. Your legs spread open immediately in invitation. He watches as a glob of arousal drips out from your core.

“Yes,” you breathe out. He pumps his shaft a few more times before bringing it to your folds, letting your wetness coat his tip. “Put it in,” you beg, jerking your hips up. He ignores your plea, bringing the head of his cock to your clit to tap on it a few times. The stimulation sends a buzz through you, and Yeonjun coos at you sweetly.

“Want you to feel so good,” he says, aligning his tip to your hole and starts pushing in. You throw your head back and groan, and he gives your neck a wet kiss. “Wanna be the best you’ve had.” He sinks in slowly, letting your walls adjust to him inch by inch. You feel like heaven around him, and his fingers dig into your hips to keep himself from losing his mind. He wants to meld himself into you.

He grinds his pelvis against you when he bottoms out, steadying his breaths so he doesn’t lose himself too quickly. His moans are deep and airy, while yours are whiny and pathetic. He trails a hand up your body until he’s cupping your face, bringing your attention to him. You look dazed, and he wants to watch you fall apart. He needs to see your perfect face scrunched up with pleasure, eyes glassy and mouth open, going stupid from how fucked out you are.

He presses a light kiss against your lips, then leans his face into the crook of your neck. He finally starts pulling back, slamming back into you with a whimper. Your cunt takes him so readily despite how tight you are, your arousal making him glide in and out of you so easily.

“Gonna be perfect for you,” Yeonjun promises. “Be a good boyfriend. Fuck you every day. Keep you happy.” He lifts himself up to watch your mouth fall open as he thrusts into you. He presses against your stomach to feel himself inside you, moaning whorishly when he does. It makes him fuck you harder, desperation coursing through his system.

You can barely speak from how far gone you are, stuttering out curses and whimpers of his name. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing at the swollen bud to get you clenching around him. He groans at how tight you get, sucking him in like your body was meant to take him.

“Need you to cum now,” Yeonjun says, feeling his high looming over. “Gotta feel you milking my cock, let me see it.”

“Kiss me,” you say breathlessly, mouth hanging open as you wait for him to take it. He obliges eagerly, shoving his tongue into your mouth with a needy whine. He licks into you as if this will coax your orgasm out, and it does. Your walls clamp around him, and he’s barely able to move from how tight you get. He circles your clit diligently, only letting up when your body jolts in overstimulation.

He pulls out soon after, only having to stroke himself a few times before he’s spilling his seed onto your stomach. He groans as he milks himself for every last drop, hand shaking as he releases the last of it. You look hot painted with his cum; he bites his lip and squeezes your thighs, needing more and more of you.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says, making you turn your head away shyly.

“Thanks. You are too.” His stomach flips, feeling proud that he earned your praise. He lowers himself to your torso, lapping at the milky strands of his cum. He cleans you nicely, swallowing down his own release until your stomach’s coated in only his saliva. He brings himself to your slit to lap at it languidly, loving the little whines you emit at the sensation.

“Did so good for me, thank you,” he murmurs into your cunt. He pushes his tongue into your entrance, slowly fucking the muscle inside you. You sigh and roll your hips against his face, relaxed and melting into the feeling.

“Y-you’re good too,” you praise. He licks his way up to your clit, taking it into his mouth and letting his tongue roll over the bud. He likes to hear that he’s being good for you, it makes him feel like he’s worthy of you. He thrives off your happiness, so he feels content as he pleases you with his mouth.

He never wants to let you go. He wants you in his arms forever, he wants to stay in this room and live the rest of his life with just you by his side. This much is enough for him. He glides his hands down your thighs, letting his fingers lightly drag along your skin. He opens his mouth a little more to taste more of you, to kiss your folds more hungrily. He presses the tip of his tongue to your bud, focusing the pressure right against it until he hears you mewl.

“Right there!” you gasp out, pressing yourself further into Yeonjun’s face. He hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, making sure you don’t jolt away when your orgasm creeps up on you. He flicks his tongue over your clit repeatedly, feeling your thighs shake in his grasp. He doesn’t stop until you’re releasing on his face, coating his mouth and chin with your essence.

He detaches himself after a minute, licking his lips and letting go of your legs. He sits up and smiles at you, taking in how pretty you look. He holds your jaw so he can kiss you, and he can’t help but to giggle into the kiss. This is so surreal. He would have fainted if he knew one month ago that this would be happening to him.

“Hi,” you say when he finally pulls his face from yours. This feels like a dream.

“Hi,” he echoes, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He cherishes the smile you give him.

“So when does this dissolve?” you ask, tugging at the webs holding your arms in place. Yeonjun scratches his neck bashfully. That's enough of an answer for you. “Yeonjun…” you sigh, body deflating.

“Less than two hours!” he rushes to say.

“Two hours?!”

“It’s not that bad. I think we can pass the time,” he says, failing to hold back his smile.

Your eyes flit down to his stirring cock. “I guess I have nothing better to do,” you give in. Yeonjun sees right through your nonchalant act, but he lets you get away with it. He has better things to busy himself with than arguing about that.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You bring Yeonjun to the market after learning about the laundry detergent debacle. You place the item in your basket, shaking your head at him as you do. “I can’t believe your roommate had to tell me to get you to buy this.”

Yeonjun raises his hands in defense. “I get busy sometimes,” he says.

“With coming to my dorm every other night?” you ask with a raised brow, walking into the next aisle.

Yeonjun drops a candy bar into the basket alongside the detergent. “No, with lab stuff, and class stuff, and Spidey stuff,” he corrects. He picks up a bottle of your favorite drink as he passes by it on the shelf. “And with girlfriend stuff,” he adds sweetly.

“Right,” you say unconvincingly, smiling as you nod your head.

Yeonjun grabs a pair of sunglasses off a rack, placing them on his face and turning to you with a grin. “How cool are these?” he asks, pointing at himself.

You laugh and lift the sunglasses up so they rest on his head. “So cool,” you answer. You tilt your head to check the price on them. “You should totally spend the last of your money on them.”

He pulls the glasses off his face to check the price tag, eyebrows raising in reaction. He puts them back on the rack. He can’t get rid of the smile on his face as he watches you shop, endeared and swooned by every little thing you do. It’s small moments like these that make him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.

“We should get bandages. I can’t believe you don’t have any,” you say, looking for where the item would be in the store.

“There’s a lot of things I don’t have. I’m operating on a limited budget,” he explains. It’s not like he can tackle a job on top of everything else he does. He’s grown accustomed to his ways of living, accepting that he’s become the male college student stereotype.

“I’m glad I stepped into your life then,” you say, throwing a box of bandages into your basket. “I’m actually scared you’d die without me.”

Yeonjun can’t help but to laugh at that. “I would die without you,” he agrees. He follows you as you continue walking around the store, aimlessly searching for anything you might need. You stop when you feel your phone buzz, pulling out your phone upon receiving a notification, checking it curiously. He reads the message over your shoulder; it’s an alert from your local news station about some rescue mission for a bunch of dogs that ran loose from their shelter just now. You turn to him with a knowing smile.

“That’s your cue, Spider-man.”

notes: god i loved writing this so much…. i hope u like spideyjjun just as much as i do<3 i would love to hear ur thoughts if u have anyyy!!! tysm for reading hehe

taglist: @ambsphoria @bananasdiary @beaabz @beomgyusluver @beomsdoll @brrytears @bumgyuz @dawngyu @enhastolemyheart @estrnrea @fancypeacepersona @fatbixchwithanopinion @heejamas @heesmiles @insanityz @i4tzy @jellyyjn @kejingken @lilbrorufr @lovesickchoi @mrsjohnnysuh @raspberrii @sanscupid @saraalovestxt @soobinieswife @starrynightgyu @starstrucktae @taebatu @taysfairies @tubatukimoa @tyongyuta @usuallyunlikelyfox @verco @vvjolyneee @xylatox @younbeanz @yourenzoo @yunverie 🤍

© delugyu 2025, do not translate or reupload

[jedimaesteryoda]

Mon Mothma's speech has become one of the definining moments of Season Two of Andor.

Bail Organa cleverly makes use of Imperial law to allow her to make the speech. He also uses the loyalist Senators' flaunting their loyalty against them when he points out that the law is for emergencies, and they all called it as such.

Fellow Senators, friends, colleagues, allies, adversaries. I stand before you this morning with a heavy heart. I’ve spent my life in this chamber. I came here as a child. And as I look around now, I realize I have almost no memories that pre-date my arrival and few bonds of affection that cleave so tightly. Through these many years, I believe I have served my constituents honorably and upheld our code of conduct. This chamber is a cauldron of opinions and we’ve certainly all had our patience and tempers tested in pursuit of our ideals. Disagree as we might, I am hopeful that those of you who know me will vouch for my credibility in the days to come.

She starts by invoking her personal connection with Senate, having grown up in it back when it was still the Old Republic. There is undoubtedly some nostalgia on her part towards the days of the Old Republic especially when compared to the present situation. She had served in that tradition even after the Old Republic died, holding onto its purported ideals. She mentions the Senate being a "cauldron of ideas" with "tempers tested" and hopes that they will vouch for her. She's already signaling that she knows what she is about to say isn't going to be received well by the Senate.

I stand this morning with a difficult message. I believe we are in crisis.

She starts by agreeing with the loyalists that there is a crisis. The Senators before her had been placing blame on the people of Ghorman and treating the Imperial soldiers who opened fire on protestors as the victims. This is familiar to anyone who's been alive to at least the past two years.

The distance between what is said and what is known to be true has become an abyss. Of all the things at risk, the loss of an objective reality is perhaps the most dangerous. The death of truth is the ultimate victory of evil. When truth leaves us, when we let it slip away, when it is ripped from our hands, we become vulnerable to the appetite of whatever monster screams the loudest. This Chamber’s hold on the truth was finally lost on the Ghorman Plaza. What took place yesterday… what happened yesterday on Ghorman was unprovoked genocide! Yes! Genocide! And that truth has been exiled from this chamber!

The Empire has lied about their role with the mainstream news media following its lead, portraying the people of Ghorman as the instigators. She pulls back the curtain, and calls the Imperial actions on Ghorman for what they are using strong words. She goes further and criticizes her fellow Senators for caping for the Empire, neglecting their duty of serving the people.

It's also notedly after she starts saying that, that the other Senators start screaming at her. No better way to exemplify that the Imperial Senate is a den of monsters.

And the monster screaming the loudest? The monster we’ve helped create? The monster who will come for us all soon enough is Emperor Palpatine!

She finishes it by calling out the Emperor himself. Mon calls him the "monster we helped to create" as it was the Senate approving measures expanding the powers of his office and allowing him to stay in office past the expiration of his term that paved the road to him becoming Emperor. When he crowned himself Emperor, they enthusiastically supported it.

She did a brave thing as she knew full well that after condemning the Emperor himself in the Senate, she would lose everything. Being seen as an act of treason, she more than lost her job, she could no longer return home as she was now a wanted fugitive.

As for the loyalist Senators whom she warned "the monster will come for us all soon enough," what do they get for their loyalty?

They lose their jobs when Emperor Palpatine bans the Senate a year later, stripping them of their powers and handing them over to his Imperial governors and generals. Palpatine only saw the Senate as an inhibition after he crowned himself, and he wanted a system of governing where he picked who was in charge rather than the peoples of the respective worlds, cementing his absolute rule. He did so after the completion of the Death Star, ruling with a gun to the head of the worlds that made up the Empire. Fascism has little use for actual democracy as Hitler showed when he destroyed the Reichstag.

As for the comparisons to other politicians past and present with some even going for Hillary Clinton (poor comparison IMO), the one that makes the most sense is labor rights and women's rights activist Clara Zetkin.

Clara Zetkin was a member of the Communist Party of Germany (KPD) who is credited as being among the women who proposed International Women's Day. Like Mon Mothma, she had opposed the major war during her lifetime of World War I, pushing for a women's anti-war conference and getting arrested several times for her anti-war activities. She was elected to the Reichstag in the Weimar Republic, and being the oldest member of the Reichstag, tradition named her the one to preside over opening it in August 1932. She did so by giving a half-hour speech condemning Hitler and the Nazi Party, and calling upon the masses to form a united front against fascism.

After that speech, she was forced to flee her country in exile when Hitler targeted the KPD. She would die that same year.

Yet, she would get the last laugh when the Nazis were crushed in the Second World War just as the Empire was in the Galactic Civil War.

Standing against fascism always comes with risk and sacrifice. Mon proved her courage when she gave that speech rather than stay quiet and keep her privileges.

[uceyliyahh]

GUARDED

summary: Genesis has been protecting her heart ever since she filed for divorce and didn’t want to be in another relationship until he came around and changed her mind.

this fanfic is 18+ NO MINORS ALLOWED

warnings contain: emotional abuse, divorce, depression, fighting, mention of blood, disposal of bodies, slight injuries, mention of a gun, drugs, unprotected sex

word count: 7.5k

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

smut warning: it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I am improving at the moment

Jimmy Uso x Genesis

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

thanks to my friend @charmed-dreamssss for helping me with the title 🫶🏽

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️ @pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @prettyfilmz @sharmelasworld @spiicii @formulafortyfour @theusotwinzcom @mingisfavgf

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @mjonthetrack

@charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @shanthefemalerapper @bloodlineslut @bookuce @sheaabuttaababyy @li-da-savage @luvrsluxe

𝗳𝝷𝝻𝝲𝞃𝝴𝝴𝝶

𝜣𝒎𝜼𝒊𝒔𝝇𝒊𝜺𝜼𝝉

gigispovv has posted on their story!

jonathanfatu replied to your story: we in this 4ever mamas 🩷

yaonlylivonce replied to your story: OMG THIS IS EVEN BETTER THAN GETTING HIS INITIALS TATTED ON YOU I LOVED THESE OMG

biancabelairwwe replied to yours story: Gigi omgggg

jadecargill replied to your story: YOU GOT TATTED BITCH? OH JIMMY GOT YOU HOOKED

americannightmarecody replied to your story: JIMMY IS INNNITTTT

uceyjucey replied to your story: ain’t this like your first tattoo sis?😭 how it feel?

carmelohayes replied to your story: he got it like that? For you to get matching tattoos together?

trinity_fatu replied to your story: WTFFF??

jonathanfatu has posted on their story!

gigispovv replied to your story: I love you sooo much 🥺

uceyjucey replied to your story: twin loves him some Genesis mane I tell you 😭😭

trinity_fatu replied to your story: ARE U FUCKIN KIDDING ME? FIRST THE TATTOOS NOW THIS? what happened to us….😔

romanreigns replied to your story: tell Gigi the fan wants to see her again dawg 

jadecargill replied to your story: I’ve seen Trin crashing out BADDDD but oh well you got Gigi thank you for taking care of her 🫶🏽

carmelohayes replied to your story: it’s still on sight when yo’ ass comeback bitch ass nigga

jacariiii replied to your story: appreciate you for taking care of my lil sister.

Atlanta, Georgia - 1:00PM

Genesis lounged in bed, enjoying the snacks Jimmy had brought her before he headed off to the gym with her older brother Jacari. She noticed him stowing his Glock in his gym bag, leading her to believe he was taking it for safety, so she decided against probing further into the matter.

While munching on her snacks and browsing TikTok, she stumbled upon a familiar video on her feed. It was Trinity, seemingly throwing shade at her without realizing it. She rolled her eyes at the clip before swiping up, choosing to ignore that girl completely.

As she continued to scroll, a text from Jade suddenly appeared on her screen, prompting her to tap on it while she licked the chip dust from her fingers. Just moments before, Jade had spotted it on Trinity's TikTok, right before sending it her way.

With a message too.

Jadebae🌪️: girrrl you see this bs?

Gigi🤍: yeah, I did and I just scrolled past it bc she’s just pissed that Jimmy is with me now 🙄

Jadebae🌪️: LITERALLY BIG MAD 😭😭 but how is it back home? Did your folks get to meet Jimmy?

Gigi🤍: yeah and they really love him including my mother do you know she showed him my baby pics I was so embarrassed 😭😭

Jadebae🌪️: PLEASEE your mother is so funny bro 

Gigi🤍: you remember Darrius?

Jadebae🌪️: dirty dick Darrius? Yeah why? Was he there?

Gigi🤍: hell yeah he was tryna flirt with me and Jimmy wanted to kill him right there

Jadebae🌪️: ewww and he should honestly but Jimmy is crazy about you Gigi, he tells us that many times 

He even told her how many times he was crazy and addicted to her.

Gigi🤍: Ik….and I love that shit🥴

Jadebae🌪️: is the dick that good?

Jade knew the answer to that already 

Gigi🤍: if your man makes you squirt three times and talks you through it what does that tell you bestie 

Jadebae🌪️: HE MADE YOU SQUIRT??? THREE TIMES???

Genesis started cracking up at her best friend's reaction to her text message.

Gigi🤍: yes three times Jade three times that’s why I’m so sore rn because of him he’s dangerous asf 😭🙂‍↕️

Jadebae🌪️: nigga put that ass to sleep

Gigi🤍: GURRL HE SURE DID BEST SLEEP I GOT

Jadebae🌪️: 😭😭 BYE GIGI but how’s the family and where Jimmy at?

Gigi🤍: everyone is doing good mama and papa love Jimmy and Jimmy is with Jacari at the gym

Jadebae🌪️: damn so he’s apart of the fam now?

Gigi🤍: yep sure is 

Jadebae🌪️: I love this for you bestie 

Gigi🤍: me too finally I can be happy and it’s also scary I haven’t heard from Zilla 

Jadebae🌪️: KEEP IT THAT WAY BC YK JIMMY WILL KILL HIS ASS 

Gigi🤍: yeah Ik his crazy ass 😭😭

Genesis had seen a text message coming from Jimmy which made her smile but she made him wait after she was done texting Jade.

Jadebae🌪️: I heard Melo been talking shi on the gram and had seen his face all fucked up 

Gigi🤍: Jimmy fucked him up badly but ion feel bad for him whatsoever should’ve mind his business 🤷🏽‍♀️

Jadebae🌪️: that’s sooo true bro 

Gigi🤍: imma text you later bestie and tell Cody I said to calm down nigga acting like I’m dying or sum 😭😭

Jadebae🌪️: kk bestie love youuu ❤️

Genesis opens Jimmy's message, curious about his intentions. He’s likely just reaching out to check on her, especially after the chaos that ensued the last time he left her alone during their visit to his mother.

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: You good mamas?

Gigi🤍: I’m okay Bo

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: I just had to make sure

Gigi🤍: how’s your workout routine going today? I’ve seen you and brother bonding 

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: it’s going good and yeah your brother is cool

Gigi🤍: that’s good now I got two crazy people who can protect me 😭😭

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: damn right mamas also imma be home late tonight me and Cari got some things to do 

He’s going to be home late? What was he up to? 

‘Don’t ask Questions’

Gigi🤍: okay Bo just be safe I’ll probably be sleeping by the time you get home 

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: might need you up just in case I just to get some pent up anger out of me 🙂‍↕️

Gigi🤍: UN-UN, THIS COOKIE JAR IS CLOSED SIR 

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: Ik mamas ik I’m talking about using them pretty ass lips you got to work baby 

Gigi🤍: I can do that for you Bo 🥴

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: Ik need to slurp my shit up mamas 

Gigi🤍: I’ll blow bubbles on it for you 

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: you making me mess up my sets texting me like this mamas 

She chuckled at his message 

Gigi🤍: I’m sorry daddy you can continue on with your sets I’ll see you later I love you 🫶🏽

Jimmy❤️‍🩹: I love you more baby ❤️

She dismissed the message and returned to her TikTok videos, yet a nagging curiosity lingered: why was he coming home so late? He never acted this way unless there was something significant he needed to address.

She attempted to dismiss the nagging sensation, refusing to let her spiraling thoughts dominate her as she munched on her snacks and relaxed at home.

After completing their workouts side by side, Jimmy and Jacari were ready to follow through on the plan they had discussed the previous night. Jimmy revealed a screenshot from Genesis's phone, which displayed a menacing message from Darrius, essentially threatening to shoot Jimmy in the head.

Jimmy arranged for Jey to fly in and assist with the scheme, as he intended to be the one to put a bullet in Darrius's head first, unafraid and undeterred by him.

He realized he was just a reckless fool with a gun, and that he needed to be dealt with appropriately as Jacari steered them down the road to the modest apartment complex where Darrius lived. They ensured they were fully prepared.

Glocks Cleaning Equipment  Knifes  Gloves

All their belongings were packed tightly in the bags they had lugged around all day, particularly at the gym, where they had stashed extra clothes for the inevitable mess, knowing it would take time to clean up the blood and deal with the body.

As they arrived at the apartment complex, they quickly grabbed their bags, tucked their Glocks into their shorts, and adjusted their shirts to conceal them before closing the door. Jimmy and his companions ascended the steps, passing by homeless individuals and children playing in the vicinity of Darrius's residence.

They veered left as they made their way to his apartment on the upper floor, gathering in front of his door.

“Just a heads up his homeboys are here too so be careful.” Jacari cautioned him while Jimmy vigorously pounded on the door, nodding his head in agreement.

As they stood there, the sound of music wafted through the air, mingling with the unmistakable scent of weed. Without a moment's pause, they awaited Darrius to swing the door open. When he finally did, he was greeted by the sight of Jimmy, Jacari, and Jey, all grinning widely at him.

“The fuck yall bitch ass niggas doing here at my crib?” Darrius questioned them.

Without uttering a word, they fixed their gaze on him as if he were mere prey, prompting a scoff from him as he doubted they were truly that menacing. Just as he was about to close the door, Jimmy burst in, kicking it wide open and sending Darrius tumbling to the floor of his living room.

With a fierce grip around his throat, Jimmy yanked him by the hem of his shirt, slamming him against the wall with a resounding thud, his hold unyielding and brutal.

In the meantime, Jacari and Jey were engaged in a fierce brawl with his friends in the back, forcefully slamming them onto the glass table and causing chaos throughout the house, while Jimmy took on Darrius.

“So you wanna put a bullet to my head huh?” With a deep, rumbling growl, Jimmy's voice resonated as he delivered a powerful right hook to Darrius's face.

Darrius scoffed at him, “I guess you seen what I text yo’ bitch and yeah I do wanna put a bullet to yo’ fucking head.” He believed this was just a game, but it was far from it; Jimmy was determined to take this fool's life and claim his first kill. Darrius had no idea how unhinged Jimmy truly was, and he was about to find out.

With a swift shove, he sent Jimmy sprawling away, landing a hard blow to his stomach followed by a punch to the face that sent Jimmy reeling. He seemed to be gaining the advantage, but it was short-lived. As Darrius lunged for another strike, Jimmy seized his arm, twisting it painfully while simultaneously grabbing his head and forcefully slamming him onto the glass table, shattering it into a cascade of sharp shards that littered the floor.

“Fuck! I got glass in my fucking eye you bitch!” Darrius hollered.

Jimmy was unfazed by the sight of blood streaming from Darrius's face; he seized him once more and forcefully smashed his head against the wall. Darrius crumpled to the floor, and without a moment's pause, Jimmy mounted him and unleashed a flurry of punches directly to his face.

The initial blow and the follow-up strike landed with force as Darrius attempted to shield his face, but the glass embedded in his left eye hindered him significantly, causing him great distress.

Jimmy unleashed a relentless barrage of punches, his fists crashing into the man with the ferocity of a tempest, each strike more savage than the one before. Blood splattered onto the pavement.

Just as Darrius spotted a small knife beside him, he lunged at Jimmy, plunging it into the side of his neck. Jimmy let out a sharp hiss from the pain, but it barely fazed him as Darrius shoved him away and reached for the Glock tucked into his shorts.

With determination, Jimmy rose to his feet, carefully extracting the knife from his left side. He tossed it aside and sprinted towards Darrius, who had a gun aimed directly at him.

This caused him to halt abruptly, drawing his Glock and aiming it squarely at Darrius as they engaged in a tense stare down.

“You think yo’ bitch ass is tough huh?” Darrius remarked.

“When it comes to Gigi, ion play that shit.” Jimmy said.

“I cannot wait to put a bullet in your head and then send a picture to yo’ girl saying my fault.” Jimmy was irritated by his arrogant demeanor, prompting him to pull the trigger of his Glock, which he aimed at him with a smirk on his face. “You wanna keep that up?”

“What? Me talking shit? Absolutely because you is a bitch nigga.” Jimmy gave a nod, switching his gun to safety before tucking it back into his shorts, all the while cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck.

Darrius sensed the inevitable outcome; he was poised to pull the trigger, ready to end a life with a single shot. Just as he was about to fire, Jimmy lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. In that split second, a bullet found its mark, piercing through one of his friends, splattering blood against the wall behind them.

Jimmy unleashed a brutal assault, ignoring the crimson stains on the wooden floor as he slammed Darrius' head against it. When Darrius finally rose, Jimmy delivered a vicious kick to his stomach, forcing blood to erupt from his mouth and splatter onto the ground.

He seized the hem of his shirt, which was barely holding on, and yanked him up like a lifeless doll, slamming him down onto the wooden table that shattered into splinters upon impact.

“Talk all that shit now pretty boy.” With a fierce hiss, Jimmy lunged onto Darrius, delivering a bone-crunching punch that echoed through the air.

He delivered a sharp kick to his ribs and followed it up with a forceful stomp on his spine, pinning him to the ground. “Fuck you bitch!”

“Still runnin’ that fucking mouth huh? Don’t worry, I'll fix that.” A wicked grin spread across Jimmy's face as he seized Darrius by the throat, mercilessly smashing his head against the wall again and again until blood flowed freely.

After that, he would throw him into the souvenir cabinet, splintering it into pieces and sending Darrius tumbling to the ground. Jimmy, breathing heavily, observed as his chest rose and fell, absorbing the disorder of the living room while casting a glance towards the kitchen.

He averted his gaze from the sight of Darrius's fallen friend sprawled on the ground, shifting his focus to Jacari and Jey, who had just taken the life of another companion—only Darrius remained, trembling and gasping for breath.

Jimmy drew his Glock from his waistband, aiming it directly at Darrius.

“Ready to die bitch?”

Darrius remained silent, only spitting in Jimmy's face as his thumb rested on the trigger, and then the gun fired with a piercing finality. The echo of the shot hung in the air as Darrius collapsed, motionless on the wooden floor. Jimmy methodically cleaned the blood from his hands, his eyes lingering on the lifeless body for a brief moment before he averted his gaze.

As Jimmy passed by Jacari and Jey, Darrius' blood pooled on the wooden floor, a grim reminder of the bloody massacre that had unfolded in this apartment complex.

“Let’s clean all this shit up before folks start to suspect something happened.” Jimmy said.

—

Atlanta, Georgia Porter’s residence - 4:30PM

Genesis was outside, planting vibrant flowers alongside her mother, cherishing their time together. Meanwhile, Jimmy was out with his older brother, and a wave of worry washed over her as she hoped nothing unfortunate had befallen him during his absence.

While she was busy planting flowers in the garden, her mother's voice broke through, asking her something about Jimmy, prompting her to shift her focus towards her mother.

“Gigi dear.” Mrs Porter called for her.

“Hm?” Genesis responded.

“Where did you and Jonathan meet?” The most common inquiry parents make when their child has a partner by their side.

With a warm smile directed at her mother, she continued, "When I first joined the company, my best friend Cody introduced me to the twins. They were incredibly sweet and kind, particularly Jimmy, who took the time to show me around and introduce me to others."

“So you both work at the same company and travel together?” Genesis gave a nod before starting to excavate another hole for the remaining flowers.

From the moment her mother married Quincy, she sensed he was not the right match for her. He would put on a facade in front of everyone, including her and her husband, but once Genesis was out of earshot, the arguments would begin, revealing the truth behind his charming exterior.

Quincy was a no-show at family gatherings, cookouts, and holidays, leaving Genesis to wear a forced smile and concoct excuses for his absence.

She discovered that her daughter was expecting his child, and it shattered her heart to realize that he didn't genuinely appreciate her daughter. Determined for Genesis to break free from him, she felt even more anguish after Genesis's heartbreaking miscarriage of her first child. She would visit her daughter, offering comfort and urging her to leave him without delay.

Those memories left a profound impact, etching deep scars on her mother's heart.

This was the first moment in ages that she witnessed her daughter radiate happiness with someone who truly cherishes and loves her for who she is.

And that made her happy.

“Do ya’ll talk about having kids or getting married? Would you wanna do that again dear?”

“Yeah, it would come up every once in a while whenever we have deep conversations late at night whenever we can’t sleep.”

“How many kids do he want?” 

She whined, “mamaaaa.” 

Her mother threw her hands up in defense before speaking, “what? I’m just asking the right questions my dearest that’s all.”

“I know, but you know how sensitive that topic is for me.”

Discussing the topic of having children was particularly delicate for Genesis, as she had gone through a miscarriage while navigating her relationship with Quincy, making her reluctant to address it.

“I’m sorry my dearest.” Mrs Porter apologized.

“It’s fine mother.” With a subtle smile gracing her lips, Genesis gently placed the seeds into the hole she had just excavated moments before.

She carefully covered the hole with soil, gently patting it down with her hands before giving it a drink of water—afterward, she cleaned her hands.

Assuming Jimmy was still at the gym since she hadn't heard from him, she removed her gloves and reached for her phone to check in on him. After sending a quick message to ensure he was alright, she slipped her gloves back on and resumed picking strawberries from the vine.

She tossed them into a pristine bowl that her mother had gifted her, intending to wash them once she finished gathering.

Her mother begins to say. “I’m proud of you dearest.”

“Thank you mama.” She responds softly.

“Jonathan has you glowing it’s been a while since I’ve seen that glow Gigi.” 

Genesis couldn't help but smile, aware that her coworkers and closest friends had been remarking on her radiant glow lately, all thanks to Jimmy.

He spoils her Pampers her with his love Dick her down good  And say all of the right things  He loved her And he would kill for her and clean up his mess afterwards.

‘Was it bad to say that she liked him being dangerous? To defend her honor?’

She was addicted to him She was attached to him too

“Everyone has been saying that mama.”

“Well as your mother I am telling you that as well, Jonathan is a good man—a great man at that, you know the ones your stepfather told you about that you will find?”

“Mhm I remember, I didn’t forget papas saying on how a man should be treating me.” They both chuckled with each other.

“Does his people like you?” Mrs Porter asked.

“Yes, his family are so loving and welcomed me with open arms when they first met me.” Genesis said.

“That’s good to hear I’m glad you have a second family that loves you like we do unlike Quincy family who was trippin, oh girl.” 

Genesis sighed in exasperation, recalling how his family had judged her harshly, labeling her a gold digger despite her successful career. In reality, he was the one siphoning off her hard-earned money while pretending to be supportive.

On top of that, he was betraying her trust in secret, while his family was fully aware yet chose to remain silent, leaving her to wallow in her own misguided beliefs.

“Don’t remind me mama, his family was so ridiculous I’m so glad I divorced his ass.”

“Me too my dearest, me too.”

—

Darrius Apartment Complex - 12:00PM

In the meantime, the crew was wrapping up their work at the apartment complex, having successfully disposed of the bodies in a river several miles away. They meticulously cleared away all the shattered remnants scattered across the floor and scrubbed away every trace of blood.

Wearing gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints, they discarded the remaining items from the blood-stained house.

As Jimmy pulled his phone from his pocket, he felt it buzz in his hand. Glancing at the screen, he noticed a message from Genesis, and he realized she must be anxious about his absence throughout the day.

Gigi🤍: Hey Bo I was seeing if you okay haven’t heard from you all day hope you’re okay love you ❤️

His heart swelled with warmth at the thought of her caring for him. As he surveyed the tidy house, a result of his long day of cleaning, he glanced at the clock and realized he would be home later than expected. He noticed Jey and Jacari diligently taking out the trash and organizing their bags.

Thank goodness he had showered and tossed his bloodstained clothes into the trash to incinerate them, preventing any foul odors from lingering in his gym bag. As everyone discarded their gloves and masks, Jey ignited the scene by clicking the lighter and dousing the trash cans with gasoline before setting it all ablaze.

“Fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be doing this all night.” Jey said.

“Yeah me neither but we had to clean up the evidence so we wouldn’t get caught up in some shit with the police.” Jimmy responded as Jey nodded his head.

Jimmy let out a big yawn, cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck as he reached for his duffle bag, mirroring the actions of everyone around him.

“Did Gigi text you? She’s probably worried about you” Jacari asked.

Jimmy nodded his head, “yeah she did, I just texted her telling her I’m on the way home she’s probably gonna be pissed.”

His twin brother chuckled at him while shaking his head, “hell yeah she is look at you, you busted up again and then you got a stab wound on your left rib of course she’s gonna be pissed uce.”

With a cheeky grin, Jimmy flashed his brother the middle finger, prompting Jacari to laugh at their silliness as he playfully jangled his keys on his fingers, signaling for them to move along as they all trailed out the door.

Jacari held a blunt, requesting Jey to spark it up for him. Jey obliged, and after taking a few puffs, Jacari handed it over to Jey and Jimmy.

After a grueling day of cleaning and disposing of bodies, they craved this moment. Jimmy exhaled a cloud of smoke into the air, letting the weed wash over him, prompting a deep sigh before he handed it back to Jacari in their shared rotation.

“This some good shit Cari.” 

“Yeah, my weed man has the best weed on the block. I should give you his phone number. Hit him up sometime he can do deliveries too while you're on the road.” 

“That would be great for sure.” 

“A’ight I’ll let him know, he needs new clients anyways.” They kept sharing the joint, exhaling clouds of smoke into the night as they gazed at the stars twinkling in harmony, savoring the gentle breeze before departing from the apartment complex.

Jacari returned Jimmy to his family's home before heading to the hotel where Jey was staying. As Jimmy unlocked the door with the spare key that Genesis's mother had given him earlier that day, he noticed the kitchen light was still on.

He carefully wiped his shoes on the mat before stepping into the house. It was then that he noticed her father dozing on the couch as he gently closed the door, making his way upstairs to the bedroom where he and Genesis were currently staying.

As he reached the door, he pressed his ear against it, expecting silence and thinking she was asleep. However, when he opened the door, he found her immersed in music, her headphones snugly in place.

Completely absorbed in her phone, she failed to notice him as she tapped her feet to the loud music blaring through her headphones. He strolled by, casually tossing his duffle bag beside the dresser while shedding his shirt and shoes.

Genesis's gaze fell upon the stab wound on his left rib, prompting her to set her headphones aside and focus on him. She was aware he had been in trouble, but she chose not to press him about it as she rose from the bed and moved towards her purse to gather what she needed.

He observed her every action, from rising from the bed to rummaging through her purse. He presumed she was angry with him for getting into trouble, as usual, but this time the atmosphere felt distinctly different from previous instances of his missteps.

She took his hand and led him to the bed, gently guiding him to sit down. As she cradled his chin with her delicate fingers, she noticed his split lip once more, but her main worry was the stab wound on his left rib.

Genesis picked up a needle and thread, along with peroxide, cotton balls, and a bandage wrap. She soaked a cotton ball in peroxide and started to clean his wound, making him wince at the sting of the stubble as he looked down at her.

Jimmy gazed at her profile, his lips moist with anticipation, as he observed her meticulously wiping away the dried blood from his wound.

After tending to his injury, she deftly threaded the needle, carefully inserting it into the small opening and tying a knot as she skillfully stitched Jimmy back together.

Her attention was entirely on ensuring his well-being, completely oblivious to the way he gazed at her with those alluring eyes, igniting a fire within her that left her damp and yearning.

“Stop looking at me like that.” Genesis said.

“Like what? I’m just looking at you baby.” Jimmy gently cupped her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his in the midst of their conversation.

He gently brushed his thumb across her cheek and then her lips, allowing her to carry on with her task, a sly grin spreading across his face as he reveled in the mischievous impact he had on her.

After carefully stitching him up, she secured the bandage around his waist before rising from her knees. She then moved towards her purse, methodically placing everything back inside and zipping it closed.

Genesis turned to find Jimmy before her, his height casting a shadow as she gazed up at him, while he looked down with a curious expression.

He took in her entire ensemble, his lips moistening in the soft glow of the bedroom light—his hands gripped her hips, gently kneading as she encircled his neck with her arms, gazing intently into his deep chocolate brown eyes.

“You mad at me baby?” His voice was deep and raspy.

She shook her head before speaking, “No, I’m not mad at you Bo. I just wanted you home.”

What truly mattered to her was his presence at home. She was indifferent to his activities, as long as he returned to her. With a firm grip around her throat, Jimmy pressed his lips against hers, and they lost themselves in a fervent kiss.

Their teeth collided while their tongues danced together in a passionate embrace, filled with moans and groans, as Genesis playfully tugged at the chain hanging around his neck.

And his hands were cupping both of her ass cheeks He pressed his rigid arousal against her thigh, making her acutely aware of the effect she had on him.

“Look at what you’ve done to me mama, you feel that shit? This is all you baby.” Jimmy murmured between her lips.

Her hand slid down, grasping him with a gentle caress that made him flinch at her unexpected touch. They paused for a moment, then dove back into the kiss, their warm saliva mingling as Jimmy started to step backward toward the bed.

He gently pulled at her shirt, assisting her in removing it over her head, along with her booty shorts, leaving her clad only in her panties as the back of his leg brushed against the edge of the bed.

With a tender tug, he helped her lift her shirt over her head, followed by her snug booty shorts, leaving her in just her panties as the back of his leg grazed the bed's edge.

He gently shifted her panties aside, his fingers gliding over her slick folds as she tangled her fingers in his curls. When he slipped two fingers inside her, a gasp escaped her lips, mingling with their kiss.

She tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering as his fingers plunged in and out, skillfully teasing her g-spot again and again. When he finally withdrew, a soft whimper escaped her lips, a sound of longing for the sensation he had just taken away.

He withdrew from the kiss, his eyes locked on hers as he savored her sweetness lingering on his fingers.

“C’mere.” He grasped her ankles, drawing her legs close to her hips as he teased his arousal against her glistening softness, his gaze locked onto hers. Genesis shivered as he pressed his enticing tip against her, causing her to flinch in response.

She inhaled sharply, gripping him tightly as he entered her halfway, then began to deliver his slow, deep thrusts.

Midway through, her legs began to tremble uncontrollably as he showered her with soft kisses across her body, trying to distract her from the intense sensations coursing through her.

“actin’ like you ain’t take this dick before baby, open them legs more fo’ me princess.” Jimmy grunted.

She complied by spreading her legs wider, allowing him to explore various angles while being inside her. Jimmy playfully swirled his tongue around her nipples, sucking gently before pulling away with a satisfying 'pop' sound from his lips.

He seized her tightly by the throat, thrusting his hips forward as he locked his gaze onto her. "There you go mama, give it to me baby," He cooed.

“O-ohh, fuck. Jimmy.” She fumbled over her words, her eyes tightly shut.

He increased his pace slightly, allowing him to make love to her gently, even if it felt nonsensical. Her breaths turned uneven in response.

“Look at me baby, lemme see yo’ pretty eyes baby.” Genesis followed his instructions, her eyes wide open as she looked up at him, captivated by his actions.

She whispered his name gently, her lips curling inward as her hands explored every inch of his body. A deep desire surged within her, urging him to taste her and bring her to the brink of ecstasy, longing to release herself completely over him.

With one hand still tightly clutching her throat, he seized one of her legs and thrust forcefully, driving himself deeper into her slick core.

“Fuckkk, J-Jimmy.” She whined while seeing a smirk appear on his lips.

“What baby? What?” He taunted her as she tried pushing him on his stomach.

She attempted to shove him back by his abdomen, but the intensity was overwhelming as he began to thrust deep within her soft depths.

“Move yo’ fucking hand and take this dick.” His voice rumbled with a deep growl as he thrust into her, leaning in for a passionate, messy kiss.

His tongue danced within her mouth while her nails clawed at his back, and the only sounds that filled the air were the soft moans and the rhythmic slaps of their bodies colliding amidst their passionate kisses.

As the air grew heavy with the scent of desire and a refreshing breeze wafted from the air conditioning, he found the pain bearable, having endured far worse that night with whatever he had experienced.

“This my fucking pussy baby?” Jimmy grumbled under his breath, receiving a soft hum from her in response, but it wasn't the reply he sought, prompting him to give her a playful slap on the thigh.

He wanted Genesis to say it, he wanted it to come out from her lips saying that it was his.

“Y-yes Bo, it’s yours.” Genesis muttered softly.

“Huh? I didn’t hear you baby?” Jimmy thrust deeper into her, captivated by the sight of her eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

She felt herself unraveling under his touch, as if his caresses were driving her to the brink of madness. “It’s yours Bo, it’s all yours.” It seemed as though he was deeply embedded within her, causing her thoughts to blur and fade away.

“Come ride this shit.” At that moment, he withdrew, leaving her perched on his lap. Genesis lifted herself and positioned him at her entrance again, then slowly descended onto him. The sensation of fullness was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

He gazed at her, his lower lip tucked in, as Genesis rhythmically moved up and down on him, gripping his shoulders for balance. His hands firmly held her hips in place.

“Shit, Gigi.” Jimmy lets out a low groan, captivated as she gradually takes him in, savoring every moment. “Keep bouncing on this shit, make daddy nut.”

His praises will consume her; hearing him speak to her in that manner, whispering his name as he fills her completely, is an intoxicating obsession.

He was her addiction.

Genesis was becoming accustomed to his stature, and his name rolled off her tongue with such ease that she found herself lost in the moment. Jimmy's hands roamed my body; being with her felt intoxicating, as if he would lose his mind without her presence.

She sensed his hands firmly clutching her backside, delivering a playful slap while he let out a satisfied groan.

“Taking me so well baby.” He whispers, his voice gravelly and profound, nearly lulling her into a trance. "I run this shit mama? Tell me who runs this shit."

She kept rhythmically bouncing on him, her hips swirling in a slow, deliberate motion as if inscribing her name on him. He let out a low curse, his head falling back against the couch in surrender. Leaning closer, she whispered into his ear, "Mhm..." she continued on “you run this shit daddy only you.”

With his hands firmly clutching her hips, he expertly led her through a rhythm that ignited her deepest desires, while a primal growl emanated from his chest, charged with intensity. Each movement of her hips only intensified his longing for her.

The atmosphere around them had become dense with nothing but heat and desire, as each kiss and moan they shared flowed directly from their lips.

He grunts, “c’mon mamas.” breaking the kiss to signify that she belongs to him and him alone. “Continue to bounce on this dick for me baby, such a good girl for me.”

As he marked her skin like a vampire, she let out a hiss of pain. Genesis felt a tightening in her abdomen, and he picked up on it, teasing her clit with his thumb as she swayed her hips.

“Make a mess on me princess.” he whispers softly, urging. "Wet my dick my up Gigi.”

His support and the way he skillfully worked his thumb on her clit felt almost magical, as if she were living in a fairy tale, leaving her utterly unable to maintain her composure.

“Fuck Bo! It’s coming ohhh fuck it’s coming!”

The head of his member was consistently and effortlessly stimulating her g-spot, making her body tremble and her nails dig into his shoulders, prompting her to cry out in ecstasy—shouting his name.

Her moist, soft interior enveloped him tightly as he let out a groan, "Yes mama, my little princess," pounding up into her. "Look at you making a mess all over this dick.”

Her body trembled from the powerful climax she had just experienced, leaving her feeling incredibly sensitive. His grip on her hips grew firmer as he thrust into her recklessly, desperately seeking his release, which caused her to sob uncontrollably.

"Un-Un, don't do that shit, take it," He snarls with clenched teeth, gripping her hips tightly as he thrusts into her sensitive core, savoring the sound of her muffled cries. "Imma paint all over yo' pretty ass face, you think you deserve daddy's nut baby?"

“Y-yes daddy, give me all your kids daddy.” She whimpered softly, nestling her head against his neck while she pressed against him, every nerve in her body tingling with overwhelming sensations. "I want it daddy, I want it."

As he withdrew from her, he drew her face nearer to him, releasing a deep, primal groan while he began to pleasure himself, letting his warm, thick essence spill onto her face, her tongue eagerly tasting the mix of sweetness and bitterness of his release.

He mutters, "Fuck," as he watches the last of his nut trickle out of his tip, his tattered chest heaving up and down.

With a warm smile, she watched him rise from the bed, stretching his limbs before he sauntered off to grab a cloth to gently wipe her face.

Genesis felt a strange numbness in her legs as she heard his footsteps drawing near. He approached with a warm cloth in hand, gently wiping her face clean.

“You okay Gigi?” He asked.

Genesis stifled a yawn, her eyes still heavy as she began to reply. “nigga you tired me out tonight and now I’m more sore than ever.” She said as he chuckled at her.

“Well I guess the cookie jar was open after you told me earlier that it was closed baby.” He snatched the rag from her grasp and tossed it into the pile of dirty laundry beside the dresser.

He nestled between her legs, resting his head on her stomach as they both found comfort in the bed together. Her fingers gently massaged his curls, prompting a deep sigh from him, a reminder of how much he had longed for this moment.

As his lips pressed against her stomach, a wave of pleasure coursed through her, causing her to shudder with delight, all while she tenderly massaged his scalp.

“You gonna lemme’ kiss on your tummy when you have my baby?” Jimmy asked, gazing up at her.

She glanced down at him with a smile on her face as she nodded her head, “ of course that way our baby could feel your love as much as I do.” Genesis said.

—

As Jimmy lay peacefully snoring on her stomach, she admired his handsome features, gently running her fingers through his curls. Suddenly, her phone vibrated, drawing her attention. She carefully reached for it, trying not to disturb the serene slumber of Jimmy resting on her.

Noticing it was Carmelo reaching out, she arched an eyebrow at the late-night messages flooding her Instagram, wondering what could possibly prompt him to text her at such an hour.

carmelohayes: Hey mamas you up?

She didn’t want to reply to him but her curiosity got the best of her so decided to text him back.

gigispovv: wtf you want boy?

carmelohayes: damn that’s how you text a nigga girl? Must be with yo’ nigga huh?

She rolled her eyes knowing where this was finna go within seconds.

gigispovv: yes I am actually if you keep texting me I won’t hesitate to show him these messages on IG so whatchu want?

carmelohayes: girl I’m tryna get know you

gigispovv: well I’m not so leave me tf alone Melo 

carmelohayes: Jimmy’s dick can’t be that good Genesis 

gigispovv: it is so pipe it down like deadass

carmelohayes: i can pipe down something alright 

That’s when her eyes went wide open as Carmelo sent her a picture of his nine inch cock she wanted to throw up so bad looking at it.

carmelohayes: you like? I know it’s much more bigger than his

gigispovv: are you fucking insane? The fuck is wrong with you sending me this shit?

carmelohayes: cmon mama yk you like this shit

gigispovv: i fucking don’t actually, I like my niggas better 

She sensed Jimmy stirring in his slumber, his head transitioning from her belly to her neck, burying his face against her skin while enveloping her in his powerful embrace—his snores resonating loudly.

carmelohayes: he don’t know what to do with all of that baby girl 

gigispovv: actually he does see you pissing me off entirely Melo when he beats your ass bc your stupid ass don’t listen you gon’ stop messing with me

carmelohayes: he not gonna do shi to me baby girl stop playing with me and show me sum

gigispovv: [ sent attachment of a meme] nigga fuck you the only person who gets these things are my nigga so stop texting me

carmelohayes: you think you funny huh?

gigispovv: indeed so leave me tf alone bitch 

carmelohayes: aight i gotchu when i see you at work 

gigispovv: not if my nigga around me your ass is gonna be grass or 6ft underground im tryna warn you that my nigga is crazy so keep it tf cute 🤙🏽

To safeguard against any potential deletion, Genesis took the initiative to capture screenshots of the messages, ensuring she documented every detail from start to finish.

In the morning, she was absolutely determined to reveal everything to Jimmy, fully aware that he would be furious. However, she understood that it was crucial to inform him, as keeping it a secret would only make matters worse.

She set her phone aside and wrapped her arms around Jimmy's warm back, feeling him shiver at her icy touch, prompting him to mumble something softly.

“Baby, your hands is cold mama.” He mumbles softly.

“Oh, sorry Bo.” She gently murmurs, planting a tender kiss on his forehead while cocooning them in the warm blankets.

She embraces him once more, pulling his warm body close as they drift off to sleep, their heartbeats synchronizing and their breathing patterns harmonizing perfectly.

Embracing their scents.

gigispovv has posted on their story!

jonathanfatu replied to your story: you know you love that shi from me baby 🥴 and what happened mamas? 🤨

jadecargill replied to your story: who is we talking about in the second pic?? 

americannightmarecody replied to your story: who is we talking about here Gigi?

uceyjucey replied to your story: Melo? Again Gigi?

carmelohayes replied to your story: now you wanna diss mama? Cmon now 

yaonlylivonce replied to your story: WHO WE DISSING GIGI???

jackieredmond replied to your story: OOOP???😭😭

biancabelairwwe replied to your story: IK WHO SHE DISSING HES SO DESPERATE BRO 😭😭

GUARDED

a/n: one body two more to go, melo better proceed with caution like seriously bc Jimmy is coming for him.

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

chapter fifteen

previous chapter

[thatlongspringnight]

Unrestrained Echoes (Caleb/MC)

Couple: Caleb Xia/ MC

Word Count: 3785

Content Warning: Smut, tooth rotting fluff, yapping, they are in a grave yard

Summary:

“You’re such a bad girl.” He teases, his breath so hot against your skin, you shudder. “Saying all those things here. In a cemetery! Who raised you?” and you gently smack at his shoulder. “She’s right over there, don’t be mean!”

It starts off as a date idea, and a silly one at that - you’ve made it a tradition with Caleb, once a month you go and visit grandma’s grave…and then you take a detour to his. 

Sometimes it’s just so you can stare at him, that you can realize there is nothing there, under that headstone, throwing yourself into his arms and letting him remind you that he is real, that he is alive and his heart is still beating under your touch. 

And sometimes it’s so you can - very dramatically, mind you - talk to his grave, while he watches, snickering as you air your problems about him, to him, in front of him. He protests, every now and again, saying it’s rude to bring up grievances with the dead - but at the end you end up giggling, tugging at his cheeks, just so happy he is with you. 

Tonight, it’s late, very late, and you’re watching a meteor shower. Sprawled out onto a comfy blanket, and curled into the crook of his arm. 

You’d planned on watching from the balcony of your place, before Caleb reminded you the light pollution would ruin it.Then you had brought up going out to the country, but he had simply tutted his tongue and reminded you the last time you did this, you were kids, and it was with grandma. 

And so to the cemetery you went, saying hi to her before he slyly remarked that his headstone is a better place to sit, with a better view of the stars.

“I thought you wanted to watch it with Grandma?” You elbowed him in the side, and he laughed, pulling you close. 

“She’s here, we said hi, I think she’d appreciate the gesture.” He shrugged a little, already marching off towards his headstone. “And anyway, I can feel her glare any time we get to cuddling. She always wanted you to end up with ‘Doctor Zayne’.” And you had watched him mimic the fawning way Josephine used to talk about him. 

“Grandma just didn’t…” You paused, trying to figure out the best way to say it. “She didn’t realize the depth of our feelings.” And you nodded to yourself - yeah that’s a pretty good way to put it. Better than saying that Grandma didn’t want you being in love with and having sex with the boy she raised as your older brother.

Oh well, you sighed. As much as you miss her, you know if she was still here…neither of you would have been brave enough to go this far. You shot an apologetic look towards her grave, before grabbing Caleb’s hand, entwining your fingers and swinging your arm. 

And she would be happy you're both happy, you're sure of it. Caleb is taking care of you, like he always promised her…and now you get to stand by his side, you get to take care of him too. 

“Why're you so quiet?” He murmurs, here in the present, brushing his lips against your forehead. “Don't tell me you're falling asleep, pipsqueak.”

“Not a chance.” You huff, shifting to look up at him, to catch his sweet - adoring gaze. The starlight makes his eyes almost shimmer, galaxies laid bare for you…and you alone. “I was just thinking.”

“Dangerous.” he snickers and you huff, swatting at him, just for him to grab your hand, drawing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss there. 

“Ugh, how am I supposed to be grumpy with you when you are so sweet.” And he grins, a wolfish flash of his teeth before pressing another kiss, just a little lower, to your wrist. 

“You aren't.” He says cheerfully. “You're supposed to always forgive me, even when I'm being big dummy Caleb.”

“Where is your hundred-year forgiveness coupon?” You ask him, reaching to pinch his cheek, rewarded with the sweetness of his laugh. 

You wish you could capture the moment of his genuine smile, of his sweet laugh - and hold it forever, keep it those weeks where he's gone with the fleet, or when you're gone on missions. 

“There is that look again.” His smile shifts to something like concern. “When you're thinking of things that make you upset -”

“I just….ugh.” you shake your head, reaching to grip at the material of his shirt, letting your fingers slip under the fabric so you can nervously rub circles against his skin. “It sounds stupid because you're here , you're right here with me.” And you shift so that you're pressed as close as you can be to him, your leg hooked over his, and your hand over his heart, feeling the steady beat. Here he is, alive and breathing, and full of concern as he looks up at you. “I miss you.” You grumble, like admitting it is a chore. “Preemptively. You're here, but I'm already missing you, thinking of when we are apart again.” You don’t know how else to say it. “When you leave…when you aren’t here, all i can think about is this place. Where I thought you left me.” 

“Pipsqueak.” And Caleb sighs softly,  shifting you so you're sprawled on top of him, his arms around you. “D’you want me to tell you you should focus on thinking about right now, instead?” He isn't teasing now, he can tell your mood is serious. “or….D’you want me….to admit that i’m always missing you too. That….after I left, all I could think about was you, and how I had left you…How I had left you all alone.” There is regret there, even as He's gently stroking at your cheek with his thumb, and cradling you against him. “I think about you, about leaving you, and about coming back, down to the minute.” And his nose brushes yours as he kisses you softly. “And when we aren't together, all I want is to be with you.”

“Maybe it's because I'm staring at your grave.” You sigh, pressing your forehead against his. “I'm…I'm - I just feel like there will never be enough time. I lost you once, after all.” It’s a bit petulant, in the way you can be with him, as you lightly pound on his chest. “I can’t…I can’t lose you again.” And he sees right through you, you know it, sees past the childish fit, to the heart of it. To how terrified you are to lose him, to end up in a world where he is gone, where he won’t come back to you. 

“I'm right here.” He reminds you, grabbing your hands, to bring to his heart, to feel it thrumming again, to feel the fact that he is alive. “I'm here now, and I'm alive, I'm with you.” His purple eyes are so soft, so sweet and you kiss him. Because you can, because he’s here, and he’s alive and he’s yours. 

The miracle of it, that he would be with you, isn’t lost on you, and as soon as he lets your hands go, you are moving them to cup his face. 

“Big dummy Caleb.” You mumble, and he pushes himself up, taking you with him. “Hey- “ and now his back is against his grave stone, and right behind his head you can see the picture of him, the one you picked to memorialize him…from his DAA graduation. 

A picture you had snapped of him, looking so handsome, so happy. Before…before all this. Before the explosion, before the fleet, and before that damn chip - 

“This is more comfortable.” His voice shakes you from your thoughts. “And I can hold you closer.” Which he does, squeezing you tightly, till you whine, the dark cloud above your head lifting just a little at his antics. “That’s better.” He whispers against your ear. “I just had to squeeze out a bit of your sadness, Now I need to find something to replace it with.” 

“With Caleb.” You answer him, dropping your voice a little low. “I want you to replace all my sadness with you.” and your hands drift down his chest. He’s so firm, and so warm underneath your touch, and you can feel the pit in your stomach - where dread is being replaced with something altogether more…Carnal. 

Its heat swirling just under your skin, a coil you badly want to break. The best way to be reminded that he’s here with you - when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you. 

“You…” and you can see the way his Adam's apple bobs as he gulps, just a quick movement. Just enough to clue you in. “Here, are you sure?” 

“Here…” and you lean forward, your mouth against his ear. “Should we put on a show for grandma?” You have no idea why you say it, but once it’s out, Caleb’s eyes are wide, and then narrowed, a heavy breath leaving his lungs as he grips at your arms.

Not painful, but strong. Strong and sturdy. 

“That is…you are really something else.” But he sounds eager, wanting, like he always is for you. “Are you really sure?” “Ask me that one more time, and we will be going home.” You huff. “And not to…to do that either.” One of his worst habits in your opinion, it's like he can’t fathom just how much you want him, and how you want him…literally all the time.

“One of these days you’re going to have to just get over it and say the word.” Caleb snickers. “You’re a big girl, right Pipsqueak? You’re a grown up.” And okay, he wants you to fight him, you think to yourself, scowling at him.

“You - you think I can’t say it?” you ask him. “Seriously?”

“I mean…you still haven’t. Are you worried Grandma will hear?” He says, his eyes full of mischief. “Are you a coward - “ “I am trying to - to fuck you. Here, in a cemetery, at your grave.” You blurt. “Fuck, have sex with you, copulate, have intercourse, make love - “ and he silences you with a heated kiss, one of his hands tangling in your hair, pulling it free from the scrunchie you had keeping it up. 

“You’re such a bad girl.” He teases, his breath so hot against your skin, you shudder. “Saying all those things here. In a cemetery! Who raised you?” and you gently smack at his shoulder. “She’s right over there, don’t be mean!” and it’s joking, a way to overlook the trauma of it all - at least for you. The more time passes, the more complicated you realize Caleb and Josephine’s relationship was. Both united in a love for you…and not much else.

“Stop thinking so loud.” Caleb is kissing you again, lips warm, and you grin when you taste the lip balm you gave him on them. “Focus on me.” He trails kisses along your jaw, then into the crook of your neck, his teeth sinking in a love bite.

“Ngh - Caleb -” it's a whine, soft and sweet for him. “Be gentle.” “We both know you don’t want that.” That timbre in his voice, God he makes you feel weak in the knees. “Always beggin’ me to be gentle, then demanding I be rough. You’re so bossy.” His hands slip under the cozy dress you had popped on for this adventure, meeting the pretty lace panties you were wearing. “What’s this? Did you plan this whole trip for mischief, Pipsqueak?” He asks.

“I know a certain Colonel of the farspace fleet likes to see meteor showers.” You very coyly raise the material of your dress, revealing what his hands are touching. “And I also know he likes it when I wear pretty lace panties.”

Before you realize it, he’s got you scrambling to grasp onto his grave stone, his fingers rubbing your clit through that oh-so pretty lace.

“Then you also know that the colonel likes it best when they’re soaked.” His teeth graze your ear and you shiver, the feeling of his firm chest pressed to your back making you almost as dizzy as the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit. “Gonna make you cum in these - “ “So you can keep them?” You are panting, gripping at the cool stone. “So Colonel pervert can use them to get off when he’s on long missions?” 

“Colonel pervert, eh?” You can feel his hard on pressing against your ass, and he’s shameless about it, bucking his hips against those panties. “That’s a new one.” and he is slipping your panties to the side just enough to slide his fingers into your cunt, to grind his palm against your clit.

“Ngh - Caleb - !” 

“Nope, Caleb isn’t here right now.” He leaves another mark against your neck, this one enough to make your eyes roll back at the feeling of his teeth, of his mouth hot on your skin. “Just the colonel - punishing his naughty aide.” 

“Does the Colonel want - hngh - “ and you shift, pressing your ass against his hips. “Does the colonel wanna fuck me for being such….such a bad girl?” and heavens above, the sound that leaves his mouth will haunt all your wet dreams from here on out. “Is that my punishment?” 

“Haah - we need to work on your understanding of what a punishment is.” with every thrust of his crooked fingers, you feel stars burst behind your shut eyes. He knows exactly how to work you over. “Generally speaking the other person shouldn’t like them.” 

“But I-i - oh -  love it when you touch me.” You counter, your breath and words stuttering as you try to talk through what he’s doing to you. “So I guess you aren’t doing - ah - you aren’t doing a good job of punishing me.” 

“You’re the colonel’s weakness.” Caleb’s words are softer now, even if his touch isn’t. “And Mine too. So I’ll always let you off easy.” Yeah, you think to yourself, trying to hold on for dear life to his literal gravestone while he fingerfucks you into oblivion - he isn’t exactly letting you off easy right now. 

And the sound, you'd have the decency to be embarrassed from the squelch of his fingers inside of you if you weren't actively grinding against him, seeking out more - more of him. 

“You -” he grunts, and he's bent over you, his free hand wrapped across your stomach, both to hold you closer and to keep you from falling over against the grave stone. but whatever he's going to say is lost as you clench around his fingers, gasping his name as you cum. 

And he's always one to let you ride it out, his touch softening immediately, not keen on giving you more than you can handle before he's had the chance to properly handle you. As soon as his fingers slide out of you, you're whining, but it's harmless, just the feeling of the loss of him making you shift, circling your arms around his neck as you slam your lips against his. 

You nip his bottom lip and he obediently opens his mouth, letting you taste the remnants of the apple soda you shared earlier, and the soft mint lip balm.  he is panting when you finally pull away, his cheeks flushed, the soft sounds of his breathing making you fond. How can he….how can he make such pretty sounds?

“Caleb.” And your hands are grabbing at his belt, quick to undo it and shift down to the button, the zipper. “You drive me crazy, you know? Whenever…when you make those sounds. I just want to - you sound so pretty.” You decide against telling him you want to lock yourself in his room with him, and never leave his bed.

“Pipsqueak -” his cheeks have darkened, and he has to clear his throat. “You always say that -’

“And I always mean it.” You slide a hand up his cock, eager and not at all gentle, rewarded with a whimpered hiss, his hand grabbing your wrist. 

“Rough -” he pants and you shoot him an innocent look from under your lashes. “Don't try and pretend you don't know what you're doing.” He says and you simply lick your palm, going to touch him again, just for your hand to drop to your thigh, his evol freezing you in place .

“Caleb -” but he's hoisting you up, met with your whining as he shifts behind you. “But I wanna see your face -”

“Nope. That's for when you're being a good girl.” And it's a fun little game you think, this banter between the two of you. 

And you reach to grab the top of the stone, resting your upper body against it as you look back at him. 

“I'm such a bad girl, Caleb, what are you going to do about it?” You grin, snickering as he groans, rubbing a hand across his forehead. 

“Right now?” And he loops his fingers into your panties, tugging them down. “Right now I'm going to fuck you till you behave…or at least I'll give it my best shot.”

“Mm, I want a shot of you, Caleb - ngh!” Before you can even bask in your funny joke, he’s inside of you, all the breath leaving your lungs as your brain short circuits. He didn’t give you the usual slow slide, where he was sweet and gentle, but the burn is delicious like this, your nails digging against stone as you try to hold yourself up. 

“Mm, it already made you quiet, at least.” His hold on your hips is bruising, and you hope it leaves marks - that it leaves his fingerprints to tide you over when he’s back in Skyhaven. You’re still sensitive from your orgasm, trying to muffle your sounds with your hand as he slams his hips into yours.

No mercy - that thought is hazy in your pleasure addled brain. 

“Why’re you covering your mouth?” He asks, smug. “Are you worried someone will hear? Is it Grandma?” And you gasp at that, tossing a look back at him, just to catch his gleaming, mischievous gaze.

“Caleb! Ba~ad!” Every time he thrusts into you your breath stutters, a shiver working its way through you as he traces the curve of your spine with his fingers, pushing your dress up as he does. 

“Caleb is bad.” He agrees. “Caleb is absolutely terrible.” He punctuates each statement with a - with a slam of hips against yours, his cock buried deep inside of you. “Caleb is the worst.” “C-Caleb…Caleb is the best.” You counter, eyes shut tight, your body just so full of him. “Caleb is my favorite.” It's stammered and stuttered and punctuated by whimpers you can’t control. “Ca~aleb!” and okay, you can’t help how loud you’re being, he isn’t leaving you a choice. The way he’s fucking you, the way he just…

He knows your body best, knows you best, knows how to leave you breathless and begging for him. His sharp, quick thrusts that fade into languid strokes only to speed up again, the way his hands roam your body, conscious of the places that will have you wiggling away, and those that will have you whining for more. 

“I love it when you say my name like this.” He reaches an arm around your stomach, pulling you up. ““You should only ever call out for me, pipsqueak. Only I get to have you like this.” and now that he has you pressed against him, his chest against your back, you can turn your head, begging for a messy kiss he’s eager to give you. 

All tongue and teeth and torturous desire. His free hand sliding up your dress to cup one of your breasts, fingers pinching gently at the nipple. 

“Mmmph!” You whine against his mouth, pulling away just to look at the glistening trail of saliva that connects you to him. “Bully. As - As punishment, hurry up a-and make me cum.” and he gives you a little smirk.

“You keep forgetting what punishments are, I’m not supposed to enjoy doing it.” But he’s already shifting his hands so he can rub circles around your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. “Your wish is always my command.” 

Now he is everything. Your every thought, every neuron in your body tied to him, just to him, all encompassing and divine. You resonate with him, without even having to try, in this moment, your pleasure bleeding into his, so that you can feel him tensing, something that sounds like your name leaving his lips.

But you hardly hear it, hardly hear anything but the unrestrained echoes of your pleasure across the cemetery as you cum again, dragging him with you - the explosion of heat spilling from your core, till your thighs are dripping in him. 

And you are sure if he wasn’t holding onto you, you’d be flat on the ground, face first in the blanket you brought, but instead, his hand is gentle as he grabs your chin, tilting your face up. “Look” He murmurs, pointing up. 

You’re greeted with the meteor shower at its peak, streaks of light shooting across the night sky. You’re entranced, letting him gently maneuver you back onto the blanket, your panties disappearing into the pocket of his pants…after he cleans you up with them. 

Then, once he’s fixed his own clothes, he's laying beside you, letting you gently play with his hair as you watch the universe’s mysteries unfold just above you, just for the two of you. “I was worried we’d miss it.” He yawns. “But look at us, we finished with perfect timing.” Caleb, your heart is fond, Caleb, always looking to the sky, even with his feet planted firmly on the ground. “Mmhmm.” You snuggle against him. “I could sleep here, you’re going to have to carry me back to the car, if I do.” 

“I figured as much.” He chuckles. “As much as I would be happy to oblige, I don’t like the idea of you falling asleep on a grave, Pipsqueak.” and he’s gently coaxing you to watch the stars, hoping the flashes across the sky will hold you enough to keep you awake.’Even if it’s my grave.” “Well, then you shouldn’t have made me see stars before there were stars to see.” You attempt another bad joke, rewarded by him groaning, laughing as he calls you corny, letting the two of you fall into comfortable silence. 

 “Is it all you hoped it would be?” Caleb’s voice has gone soft and sweet, unaware that your eyes are on him, not the stars. “Better.” You try to memorize the shine in his eyes, the childlike wonder and hope as he looks up at the night sky. This is your favorite version of him, when you both feel safe, when you’re together.  “More beautiful than I could have imagined.” 

[gcddcsscs]

when jorah returned, kate looked at him in the eyes. there was a slight nervous feeling in her, one wondering if everything went well back to the tavern. her master was known to be an authoritarian man. he easily used his hands to make himself understood, once slapped her so hardly that her head hit the table. the simple thought made her shudder as she realized the living hell she had gone through over the years. it was as if she was finally opening her eyes.

seeing jorah slowly approaching her, kate looked at him when he spoke about how it went. a small smile came across her face as he told her she would never have to return there ever again. she looked at the small pouch with all her savings, enough for her to provide from her side to jorah whenever he needed as well. seeing the rest of the clothes that the innkeeper's wife provided, kate nodded.

"she's very kindhearted." kate commented before adding. "she apologized for startling me and told me i was safe." she smiled sweetly before looking at the fire.

there was a certainly nostalgia invading kate all of a sudden. the simply thought of leaving her birth place forever was giving her heart a pang. not because she was sad to leave, she was actually more than thrilled to live in a new place, in a better setting.

however, she was born there. she had seen how tough life could be, witnessed things she wished she never had. she was abandoned, mistreated and used. thrown from one place to another like the filthiest rat of the village. the tavern was what was the worst for her. seeing the lowest profiles of humanity gathering together: cheating men, violent men, powerful ones. all using her body like one would play with a toy before throwing it away.

broken, her body still stood despite all the bruises, all the soreness and pain it carried over the years. despite a broken heart, a great fear of men, kate's heart still had room for love. room for hope of having a new life. room for jorah.

her green hues watched jorah as he now knelt before her. looking at the rings, a shy smile came across her face. they looked perfect, exactly the way she imagined them. they were at the image of their couple: simple, humble and yet beautiful.

when jorah slipped the ring around her finger, kate looked at him in the eyes when he spoke those words. a smile came across her face as she bit her lower lip.

it was now her turn to slip the ring on his finger. she caressed his hand and squeezed it gently. "i shall wear this ring proudly, be your wife and the future mother of your children. i shall be your best traveling companion and not only for territories but for life. i shall be by your side until i am able to breathe."

hearing his voice, kate slowly stood up and kissed his lips before gathering the last belongings. it was soon noon and after bidding goodbye to the couple of innkeepers, kate walked after jorah, ready to face her new destiny. she looked at the village one last time before turning her back on it, never looking back again.

Jorah stepped into the room and quietly shut the door behind him. The iron latch clicked into place with a muted finality, sealing them away from the grey morning beyond. A faint gust of wind howled outside, rattling the shutters before surrendering to the thick stone walls. The air inside was warm and fragrant with smoke, old wood, and the lingering scent of the inn’s hearthfire. The cold clung to his cloak and gloves, a thin film of frost melting along his shoulders and boots, leaving damp footprints on the worn wooden floor. The forge’s scent still followed him — hot steel, coal dust, and ash — clinging to him like the memory of what he’d just done.

Then his eyes found her.

She sat curled near the fire, small in the chair but powerful in presence, wrapped in the heavy cloak he’d left for her. Her silhouette shifted gently with the firelight, casting a warm amber sheen across her skin, her long hair catching glimmers of gold as it tumbled over her shoulder. Her posture was relaxed, but the tension beneath it hadn’t fully faded — not yet. She looked up at him, eyes still hazy with sleep, but clear in their recognition. It stilled him, caught him in place. For a moment, Jorah forgot to speak.

He stood in the quiet, simply watching her.

There had been moments in battle where time slowed like this — when he stared death in the eye and knew he’d been given one breath more. But this wasn’t fear. This was reverence. She was alive. She was here. And she looked at him like he was something more than a man who had stumbled into her life by chance. She looked at him like she chose him. That knowledge rooted him, humbled him more than any battlefield ever had.

Finally, Jorah crossed the room in slow steps and placed the satchel on the small table. His fingers lingered on the strap a moment longer than necessary before he let it fall open. “I went to the tavern,” he said, voice low, the words quiet but firm. “Through the back. Used the alley gate — same one I came through the first time. No one saw me.”

He glanced over his shoulder toward her, wanting to meet her eyes. “I did speak to him. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of and argument. Just took what was yours —and, the money you earned. I didn’t touch anything else. That place has no part of you anymore.”

From beneath his cloak, Jorah untied a bundled cloth with deliberate care. The fabric unraveled slowly, and inside lay two rings — dark iron, still warm to the touch, forged less than an hour ago. The surface bore no polish, no intricate etching, just honest metal with its imperfections proudly intact. He placed them on the table where the firelight could reach them. The rings looked humble, but to Jorah, they were more precious than gold.

“I went to the old blacksmith,” he said, turning back to her. “Told him I didn’t want anything shiny. No polish. No symbols.” Then, reaching back into the satchel, he pulled out another bundle — a neatly folded set of linen layers, thick wool, and soft leather gloves. “The innkeeper’s wife had these ready. She said you looked peaceful. Told me not to wake you unless I had to.”

He knelt beside her chair, lowering himself so they were eye to eye. His palm came to rest gently on her knee, offering not control, but connection. Just to feel that she was there, warm and real and still with him. His voice dropped again, barely above a whisper.

“Will you wear this ring, make me your husband, and you my wife.” he offered, slipping the ring on her hand as it fit her ring finger and held his out to her to place on his own.

He remained there for a moment longer, his eyes tracing her features, memorizing the softness he rarely saw when she wasn’t on guard. “We leave before noon,” he said, voice steadier now. “The trail’s cold, but the forest will shelter us. We’ve got furs, bread, and distance. Enough to put this place behind us for good.”

[kitkatsgalore]

now playing... ☆ track 03. pathetic love ☆ track 04. outsider ☆ track 05. why you hate... ☆ track 06. bleu

mini 와장창 track "visualizers," inspired by the ones yechan drew for the blue album! 🎶

part of #LUCYWEEK2025 | day 2 | prompt: all kinds of blue

[gideonisms]

Now running up against the problem that putting items into the same bins every day for 7-9 hours is so boring it makes me wanna kms and I still have to figure out what facial expressions to make or coworkers will think I am lazy and uncooperative

[snekdood]

idk who needs to hear this (vaush) but being a skilled debater and being Good With Words does not make you correct.

[indefiniteavatar]

So basically, in a case about him shoving money at someone so they shut up about him. . .he can’t shut the fuck up himself. I would say something clever and funny here, except the sad part is that this is just so normal in current politics that it’s just. . .not hilariously absurd behavior anymore? Not to say that it’s not absurd - it is beyond such, but it is just. . . predictable, I suppose.

I guess this is how I feel about politics lately? Either I get mad at everything or I try to laugh at everything and normally that works because politicians usually aren’t so tragically stupid so very often, but now I just kinda have to chuckle at the particularly eyeroll worthy things like this, and try to ignore everything else or my brain will explode.

[celiababy]

Ain't Right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You have a major (borderline obsessive) crush on Joel, and you're on a mission to fuck him.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, cum eating, name calling, kinda mean Joel, alcohol, vomiting, an extremely brief mention of suicide

Disclaimer: I lowkey don't know the logistics of the show so if some things are wrong please look over it I'm just trying to write smut about Joel Miller godbless.

Ain't Right part 2

Ever since that tortured old man showed up in Jackson, your life hasn't been the same.

Tommy's older brother, and your absolute undoing.

When Joel Miller rode into town, it was like everything suddenly made sense. The skies got clearer, the air smelled better, and the birds even chirped their love songs louder.

Everything about him drew you in; his cold demeanor, stoic face, tired eyes—but gentle around those he cared about, which was only a few select people.

And you certainly were not one of those select people.

Joel didn't know what to think about you.

To him, you were odd. Yes, you were undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in Jackson, but he felt distance between the two of you was essential.

He felt this way because he knew.

Joel wasn't oblivious to your stares; he might've been an old man, but he remembered the laws of attraction fairly well.

He didn't like the thought of you liking him.

You were young, attractive, and had plenty of age-appropriate prospects just begging for your attention. Every boy in Jackson wanted a piece of you—but you only had eyes for Joel.

He was getting old and tired, ain't no reason why you should be so fond over him.

He also didn't like that you made your attraction so obvious. It made people whisper, and Joel about had enough teasing from Tommy.

"You gonna let that young thing jump your bones or what, Joel?" Is an example of the few things his brother would chirp at him whenever you were around and had eyes on him like he was a target.

So, all things considered, it's no surprise when Joel is reluctant to make a supply run with you.

You had begged Tommy to let you go out and finally start pulling your weight, carefully adding that Joel would be a great teacher for a first timer like yourself.

You stand near the truck, squeezing the straps of your backpack while watching Joel and Tommy whisper to themselves a couple feet away.

"You can't find anyone else?" Joel growls lowly, narrowing his eyes at his insufferable brother who he’d really like to strangle right now.

"Are you seriously scared of a twenty year old girl, Joel?" Tommy asked exasperatedly, throwing his arm out in disbelief. "It'll take two hours tops, what the hell are you so scared of?" Joel is exhaling through his nose, dragging a hand down his jaw in complete disgruntlement.

"You know what the hell I'm scared of Tommy—goddammit," He gets in his brother’s face before realizing you’re still watching them.

He takes a moment to back up and calm down, breathing out through his nose.

"I do not need this town thinkin' I am encouraging this girls...feelin's." He murmurs lowly.

Tommy rolls his eyes before shoving Joel's backpack into his chest.

"Just don't fuck her, Joel. How hard could it be?"

Joel watches as Tommy turns his back and walks away, leaving just you and him.

Joel had spent a lot of time making sure he was never in a situation alone with you—now he was about to be your unsupervised mentor.

He feels a groan try and crawl its way out his throat, but he pushes it down.

He starts walking to the truck, not even looking at you as he passes and yanks the driver side door open with more force than necessary.

"Let's make this quick." He grunts out, climbing inside.

You do the same, only with a little bit more enthusiasm. ***

The trip is a complete bust.

Joel barely paid you any attention, no matter how many flirty gestures you made at him.

You'd say something remotely suggestive and he'd either glare at you, or just flat out ignore you.

But you were relentless. Giving up on him wasn't in the cards for you, no matter how many judgmental looks he casted your way.

You guys had been driving back to town for around five minutes; Joel has kept his eyes firmly on the road in fear of you sparking a conversation with him.

But you do anyways.

You turn your body to face him in the bench seat, your eyes cascading down his breath-taking side profile.

You zoned in on the gray patches of his beard, and how his face had the remnants of a long, unforgiving life weaved into his wrinkles and scars.

You're momentarily rendered speechless by his looks before he side-eyes you.

"What?" He huffs out, not being able to handle your intense stare any longer.

"Why not?"

A beat.

"What?" He asks again, his brows furrowing together, an annoyed and confused expression painting his features.

"Why won't you fuck me?"

Joel physically winces at your language, scoffing in what looks to be disgust as he starts shaking his head.

"We're not starting this." He snaps firmly, a tone in his voice that you haven't heard before.

Completely disregarding his words, you start.

"Is it because I'm not pretty enough?" Joel groans out, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Is it because there's someone else?" He's close to snapping. "Is it because you can't get it up? I heard thats a problem with guys your age-"

Joel slams on the brakes, sending you lurching forward. He shoves the truck into park before turning to face you, a scary look on his face.

"I am not going to fuck you--Christ almighty," Joel raises his voice at you.

You're staring at him, wide eyes and lips parted in surprise. You weren't really expecting this.

"you're bustin' my fuckin' balls, Look kid," He starts up again, this time with a softer tone. "M'about 40 years too old for you-"

You cut him off with a murmur. "36, I did the math."

"Same damn thing," he snaps, shaking his head. "Point is—you don't needa be wastin' your time with me; there are plenty boys your age that will satisfy your...you."

You scoff in his face but try to disguise it by clearing your throat.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Joel," You start, a sad smile spreading across your lips. "S'just sex." You say with a shrug, blush coating your cheeks because now your mind is imagining sex with him.

He stays silent and looks away from you, closing his eyes like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

That urges you to say more.

"I won't tell anyone," You're practically whispering, looking down at your fidgeting hands in your lap. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me."

Joel's heart cinches in his chest at your words, mostly because he can tell you're being so genuine.

Why the hell did you like him so much? He just couldn’t understand it.

But he can't entertain this any longer because he knows if he did, he'd give into you.

"I don't wanna hear another goddamn word outta your mouth." Joel says in a strikingly even and calm tone, putting the truck into drive and continuing back.

He's eerily silent, and so is the rest of the trip because you're too dejected to speak.

Eventually, you both arrive home and you're fast to get out of the truck.

You slam the door and keep your head down as you walk away, snow crunching beneath your boots.

Joel takes his time, watching you storm off with tired eyes.

He feels bad for being so rough on you, but he figured it was the only way to get you to stop liking him.

Tommy walks up, a concerned look on his face as he looks back between you and Joel.

"Guessin' you didn't fuck her."

***

Nobody had seen you in days.

The pain of rejection had you in a mental place that you had never experienced before.

No one has ever denied you—ever.

The situation was 100x worse considering you actually liked Joel, and he wasn't just another toy to play with.

Joel figured his life would get easier with you not around, and it kinda did in some aspects.

But he couldn't stop the gnawing feeling of guilt slowly eating at him like a parasite.

He'd been cruel to you in the way he went about things, and he felt bad.

Had he really broken your heart? He didn't know you liked him that much.

He sits in his living room, contemplating how to go about this entirely fucked up situation.

He debates making amends with you, apologizing and rejecting you again but in a gentler way.

He deliberates on his plan of action while nursing a glass of whiskey before he's interrupted by three bangs on his front door, followed by a screeching: "JOEL"

He mutters a 'what the fuck' under his breath, walking to the door and picking his 9mil up on the way.

His eyes widen when he sees you-standing there in all your glory.

It's the middle of winter and snowing like hell, yet you're wearing shorts and a tank top with a beer bottle in your hand.

"Jesus, kid-what the fuck," Joel ushers you inside quickly, taking his big jacket off the coatrack and draping it over you.

He also tosses his gun to the side, obviously you were no threat.

"You tryin' to get frostbit? Christ," he's swearing and muttering profanities as he guides you over to the couch, now basically swaddling you in blankets.

You've never been inside his house before, only ever walked passed it a few times. It smells like him.

You, however, smell like alcohol and bad decisions.

Joel picked up on how drunk you were the minute you stumbled through the door. He takes the bottle from your hand and sets it aside somewhere, glaring at you like how a mad parent would.

"The hell are you doin' out in the snow like that? Fuckin' death wish or somethin'?"

His words are kinda fuzzy in your ears, you're so drunk that you barely even register them.

An unprompted giggle spills from your lips as you shake your head at him.

"It's not snowing silly," You chide, making him out to be an idiot when, in actuality, it's a damn blizzard outside.

He knows from that statement alone that you are way off your rocker tonight.

"How much have ya had to drink, kid?" Joel asks, raking a hand through his graying hair.

"Don't call me kid," You snap, a quick flash of anger in your expression. "M'not a kid."

Joel rolls his eyes so hard that he probably caused a tsunami on the other side of the world.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. What are you doin’ here?” He asks exasperatedly, dragging a hand down his jaw while looking at your trembling figure.

There’s a long pause before you answer. You just got distracted by his big brown eyes.

“Jus’ wanted to say hi.” You murmur, unable to tear your gaze away from his face.

“Say hi?” He reiterates, looking at you like you’ve actually lost your mind.

You probably have.

After a moment, Joel can’t help but chuckle in disbelief, letting his body lean back against the couch.

The absurdity of it all turned humorous to him.

Here you are, sitting in his living room, practically nude with only his coat and blankets protecting your modesty, having just trekked through the snow all for what? To say hey?

You’re still sitting there, motionless and trying to remember how to breathe because his laughing face has your heart lighting off fireworks.

“Fuckin’ hell—hi.” Is all he says, turning his head to the side to look at you as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You smile like a dope at him, so extremely happy to be there in his company.

But the alcohol in your system is fighting you, and you’re finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

“S’it cool if I say the nigh?” You slur, falling vertically on the couch, your head crashing onto Joel’s thigh.

You nuzzle your cheek against the fabric of his jeans and Joel is just about to gently push you off, but he stops himself.

You look so comfortable and so at peace that Joel can’t do anything except stare at you.

Your cheek is slightly smushed, your lips are parted, your eyes are shut and don’t plan on opening—it’s insane to him how at home you looked.

Like you belonged here, head rested on his lap.

Fuck.

He was fucked this time.

He doesn’t move you. Instead, he fixes the blankets on top of you so you’re fully covered, and sits there with you the entire night.

He’s really gone soft.

***

When morning comes, you’re first to wake up, accompanied by a splitting headache.

You don’t even notice how Joel’s hand had fallen onto your waist some time during the night because you’re too busy making a b-line for the bathroom.

You chuck your guts up into the toliet, clutching the porcelain and groaning out in pain.

Joel wakes up to the sound of your hurling, momentarily disoriented before he remembers last nights events.

He’s quick to come to your aid in the bathroom, wasting no time gathering your hair in his fist to get it out of your face.

"S'right, get it all out," He murmurs out encouragingly, seemingly unfazed by the disheveled sight of you.

You’re too sick to be embarrassed, that’ll come later surely.

He sits on the wall of the tub as he continues holding your hair back, yawning every now and then like this was just a regular Tuesday morning.

Eventually, by the mercy of God, you get it all out of your system and slump up against the wall.

“M’sorry,” You immediately apologize, figuring that is the only right move in this situation.

“Don’t be. Been through plenty'a that in my day.”

His words are uncharacteristically reassuring and you find yourself taken back by them.

You soon realize this is probably just the hazy morning Joel, the Joel where he isn't worried about anything except coffee and breakfast—like everything wrong in his life is put on the back burner for this short minute in time.

“I’ll get you some water and Advil, sit tight.” He grunts before standing up on his feet, knees popping as he walks out.

You watch as he leaves, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Aside from the vomit part, you could get used to this.

You've never seen him so...domestic. His hair was all messy, his voice was raspy, he had that morning haze over his features that you felt so honored to witness.

You suddenly felt compelled to look at your own appearance, hopping to your feet and looking in the dirty mirror.

You resist the urge to audibly gasp at your reflection, opting for a disgusted look instead.

Your hair is a rats nest, your clothes are a mess, and your mascara has rubbed off in black smudge all over the skin around your eyes.

In a desperate attempt to look at least semi-presentable, you wash your face with water and comb through your hair with your fingers.

The idea that Joel had seen you looking like that was making your stomach churn again.

Before you can grovel about it any longer, he rounds the corner with a glass of water and little brown pills in his hand.

“Here,” He says softly, handing you the water and tilting the pills into your open palm. “Take these ‘n drink all that water and ya should get to feelin’ better.”

You do as he says, swallowing the Advil in one go before taking a big sip to wash it down.

His eyes drift down to your shoulder, where your tank top strap has fallen. No doubt from all that vigorous throwing up you were doing moments ago.

Without thinking, his fingers graze your forearm before bringing the strap back up to its correct position, clearing his throat in the process.

A beat of silence falls over the both of you.

You’re gobsmacked by the complete nonchalance of his touch, staring at him with your mouth slightly open in shock.

“What?” He asks defensively, his tone pointed.

You look between him and your shoulder strap, then slowly move to set your water down.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck?”

“Goddammit—” Joels cursing before you can even finish saying the last word in your sentence.

He turns away from you, probably the fastest you’ve seen anyone turn in their life, and walks towards his room with an accelerating pace.

He shakes his head in disbelief all the way down the hall, pivoting on his heel to duck into his bedroom.

You follow him, not really fazed by how he completely refused to answer your question, though you didn’t think he would anyway.

Before you can step foot into the threshold of his room, Joel walks out, causing you to back up.

He shoves a stack of clothes in your direction, looking down at you with a frustrated face. “Put these clothes on and go home.”

You look down, realizing he was letting you borrow a sweater and jeans of his so you didn’t die walking back to your house from the cold.

Your heart warms at this thoughtfulness.

Without wasting any time, you take the clothes from his hands, smiling happily. “Can I keep them?”

“Why the hell would you wanna keep my clothes?” He’s got that confused/angry look on his face as he asks, and you have to suppress a giggle at the sight of it.

You bring the pieces of fabric up to your nose and inhale, humming as you breathe out again. “They smell like you.”

“Christ,” Joel beings his hands up to rub at his eyes. “Fine, do whatever. Just hurry up and change, jesus,"

Ever the tease, you set down his clothes and begin to lift your tank top like you planned to change right in front of him.

Joel's hands shoot out to stop you, a 'don't try me,' look on his face.

"Put them on over your clothes," Joel says sternly, watching the way you sigh because you weren't fast enough in lifting your tank top off.

However, you sieze the opportunity in front of you.

Joel's hands are holding yours down, so you work to intertwine your fingers, invading his space by stepping forward.

"Or, you could take my clothes off," You purr, your chest now flush with his torso.

Joel exhales through his nose, his jaw clenching as he tried deciding how he was going to get out of this situation.

But then he paused.

Looking down at you now, so eager and wide eyed, made him wonder.

If he fucked you, and made you realize it wasn't what you were probably imagining in your head, maybe then you'd finally leave him alone.

He would just...pretend to be awful at sex.

(Even though it had been so long and he wasn't sure if he'd actually need to 'pretend' anymore.)

There's a long silence that drags out between the both of you.

Your stomach is doing flips because it's looking like he's finally going to agree.

His resolve cracks and Joel can't do anything but sigh in defeat.

Slowly, Joel pulls you back into his room, closing the door behind you both.

Time is moving in slow motion.

You can't believe it's finally happening.

He guides you back until the back of your knees hit his bed, prompting you to sit down on it.

"I'm only going to do this once," Joel's voice is uncharacteristically low and calm, and it has your core tightening.

You nod in acknowledgement, waiting to see what he's going to do next.

With care, he pushes your shoulder down so you're laying on your back. "Are you sure you want this?" He asks, brown eyes searching yours.

"Have I not made it obvious?" You quip, a giggle following shortly after.

Joel only shakes his head before his fingers latch around the fabric of your shorts, pulling them down and off your legs.

"S'pose you have." He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck.

You're vibrating with excitement and you repeat what you tried earlier, only this time succeeding with taking your top off.

Of course, you're not wearing a bra.

Joel realizes in that moment that he bit off way more than he could chew.

He hasn't seen breast that weren't on a soggy piece of paper in at least a few years, and yours--well, his cock stood no chance.

You hear him swallow, watching as he can't seem to stop staring at your chest.

Realizing that he might need a little encouragement to start speeding things along, you smile up at him and whisper, "touch me Joel".

Yeah, screw this. His plan of pretending to be bad was now entirely forgotten—he was going to do what he wanted, so help him god.

He huffs out a curse before sliding a hand up your torso, stopping once he's fully cupped one of your breasts in one hand. He kneads it like dough while using his other hand to disappear under your panties.

A choked moan erupts from your lips once you feel his fingers brush along your clit, rubbing around and spreading your slick around all too slowly.

"haven't even done anythin' yet and you're already fuckin' soaked..." He murmurs really to just himself, his eyes casting down to watch as he rips your underwear off impatiently.

"M'always like this whenever you're around," you mewl to spur him on, spreading your legs wider.

"Oh you are, huh?" Joel repeats back, the tiniest bit of cruelty in his tone that makes you shiver.

You nod, bucking your hips into his hand desperately.

"don't get why you like an old man like me, s'gross." His tone is flat but it's clear he's teasing by the way he curls his fingers inside of you. He's not really expecting a response, but you feel compelled.

You lurch forward, gasping at the feeling. "I really like you," You rush out breathlessly. "I'd do anything you wanted me to." You say earnestly as you stare into his eyes, loving what you're seeing.

Joel remembers when you told him that the first time, his heart cinching the same way it did then.

Joel is at war with himself. One side of him is screaming that this whole situation is fucked up and he is better off without you.

Another part of him thinks that this is the most he’s ever felt in a long time. And he doesn't want to lose it.

You can see the gears turning in his head. His fingers have slipped from you and you wince at the loss.

Slowly, you sit up. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your nipples pressing into his shirt.

He's confused and momentarily panicked when your faces get so close together, his hands seeking purchase on your hips.

In an unexpected move, you rake your hands through the side of his hair, looking lovingly at his face.

"I just wanna be someone for you," You murmur, your face breaking a little as Joel's resolve also cracks. "Doesn't matter what. I'm very versatile." You mumble the last part to try and lighten the mood.

Joel just stares at you—something swimming behind his eyes that you can't quite place.

Eventually, he crashes his forehead against yours, sighing out.

"You're makin' this fuckin' impossible." He rasps before kissing you with a passion you've never felt before.

You feel victorious.

He's finally given in to you.

Eagerly, you kiss back, wrapping your legs around his torso and grinding your bare cunt against the bulge in his jeans.

"Then stop trying so hard to get rid of me," You sigh out, chasing his lips even as you're trying to speak.

He groans and you catch it in your mouth, the pressure on his clothed cock making him dizzy.

“Fuck,” He’s quick to unbuckle his belt, sliding it out of the loops and tossing it somewhere on the floor. “Lay back.” He demands and you immediately follow suit.

He's never been that...assertive with you before. It makes you tingle all over.

He looks starved as he peers down at you, specifically your cunt.

He literally can’t tear his eyes off your sex—he only looks up to your gaze when you let out an impatient whine.

He rips down his pants, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

Now you can’t tear your eyes away from his sex.

You’ve only dreamt it so many times, but now that it’s finally in front of you—it all just feels surreal.

It’s better than you imagined, perfect.

“I don’t have a—”

You know what he’s about to say so you cut him off immediately. “S’okay, like it raw. Closer to you that way.” You murmur.

Joel looks physically pained that he’s not inside you right now. For some reason, you just know all the right things to say.

“Closer to me?” He huffs out, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the bed where he stood.

Now your cunt is flush with the base of his member and the sensation drives you both insane. “You’re fuckin’ insane.”

Joel rasps, but the way he says it reveals just how far he’s fallen. He knows you’re crazy, and yet here he is, balancing you out.

He glides his member back and forth against your folds, gathering up your wetness with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

He looks so concentrated—meanwhile you’re writhing with pleasure and impatience. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for him.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs to himself, eyes tracing all over you.

You freeze.

Joel had complimented you for the first time, and it was genuine.

He notices you stiffen and takes a moment to pause.

Your entire body erupts with goosebumps, your heart beating at exceptionally fast speeds.

He's worried for a second that something is horribly wrong.

“What?” He asks, confused at what’s got you so wound up.

Your face is flushed red as you bashfully giggle. “You called me pretty.”

Ah fuck.

Joel finds you so charming it hurts.

After he remembers how to breathe again, he rolls his eyes and clears his throat.

“I have my cock to your cunt, of course I find you pretty.”

You smile and shrug. “Still. Nice to hear.” You’re all smiles until his tip prods at your entrance, causing a gasp to leave your throat.

He continues to apply pressure with his tip and it’s driving you crazy.

“Fuck Joel—are you trying to kill me?” You whine, hips wiggling to get him in.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Relax, m’almost there.”

Slowly, he begins pushing his way inside. His mushroom head breaches you entirely and it feels like you can hear the angels singing.

He continues forward, the stretch being mainly around the middle of his thick cock.

But you’re taking it like a champ.

Joel braces himself with hands on both sides of your torso as he bottoms out, a groan crawling its way out of his throat.

The sensation is absolutely delicious.

A little bit of pain from the stretch, but so much pleasure from the fullness.

“Joel, ohmygod you feel so good inside me.” You moan, throwing your head back.

Your hips start moving on their own, but he immediately stops you with two large hands.

“D-Don’t move—fuck.” Joel grumbles out, his face pinched together in what looked like pain.

You’re confused for a moment, thinking maybe that he might just be really into cockwarming.

But then it hits you.

“Were you gonna come?” The tone in your voice makes it seem like you’d be elated if that was the case—like the most flattering thing in the world.

Joel looks pissed that you caught on so quick.

In truth, the moment he put his tip in, he was holding back his orgasm.

Can you blame him? He’s only fucked his hand for the last couple years.

“S’been a while.” Is all he can say, his chest heaving up and down in concentration. You know he’s embarrassed, but you can’t help but smile like a dope at him.

“If you come, please do it inside, please,” you beg, reaching out for his arms that caged you in.

Joel's rational mind feels like it just touched down in looney town after hearing your begging.

He feels crazy because he liked the thought of the idea you proposed. You even see him hesitate. But then he scoffs and shakes his head.

Joel drops down closer to your face, slowly starting to rock his hips into you. "Tryin' to baby trap me, girl?" He grunts in your ear, making you moan out.

Your walls are clenching down on him, and it’s making it that much harder to hold back. “No-no, promise, just wanna be full of you." You manage to blubber out...unconvincingly.

You probably didn't really want a baby with Joel, but your lust-driven brain was working on fumes and you just wanted to do what felt good.

Joel's grunting in your ear was not helping things. His fingers were gripping your hip so hard, you figured it would probably bruise tomorrow.

Good. You wanted whatever he would give you.

"Christ--m'not gonna last much longer," Joel groans, picking his head up a little to meet your gaze. He wanted to kick himself for not being able to last, but when he saw your face, all those feelings disappeared.

You looked so--perfect. Soaking up the moment in case it was the last, god you hoped it wasn't the last time. Now that you've finally had a tase of him, you weren't sure you could live without it.

Your legs tighten around his waist, keeping him firmly in your cunt. Joel notices this and also your pleading eyes, a growl leaving his throat.

"Please, please, please, please," you beg, never breaking eye contact with him as his thrusts pick up speed.

He ruins your long string with pleas with a needy kiss, shoving his tongue down your throat like a starving man.

You accept it happily, moaning out into the kiss while Joel manhandles your hips to take his cock.

The feeling is damn near euphoric for both you and him. It gets even better when Joel's hand comes down to rub at your clit again.

Your back arches off the bed as you gasp and moan out, wrapping your arms back around his shoulders. "F-Fuck!" You moan into his ear, probably drooling on his shoulder in the process. "thankyouthankyouthankyou-" you sputter out in choked sobs. He was really good at working on your clit, you couldn't do anything else but thank him for it.

Joel feels a surge of something when he hears you. He's never had a woman thank him in bed before.

It's enough to push him over the edge. And apparently you too.

"I'm gonna come Joel, please don't stop," There are pools of tears in your eyes that Joel is just now noticing. He's about to reply to you, but he finds himself speechless when he feels your cunt start constricting and fluttering around him like a vice.

"Fuck!" He groans out loudly, his hips starting to falter in their rhythm. But then he picks up speed again, and in no time he's like a madman jackhammering into you.

You're a mess of screams and cries and moans underneath him, happily taking everything he was giving you.

When Joel feels himself about to come, he notices how your legs are still tightly wrapped around him, keeping him inside, and he manages to scoff out.

"Gotta let me go baby," You've never heard that pet name from him before, and it makes you crumble. His hands move to grab at your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

You whine out but reluctantly release the grip your legs had on him. Joel doesn't waste time before hugging both your legs on his chest, keeping them firmly placed while your feet squirmed by his ear.

"Atta girl," he murmurs before picking up speed again, his cock head pressing into your cervix.

It's all too much for you. Joel looks so amazing pounding into you from above, his concentrated face, his sweat, the way his salt and pepper hair is all disheveled, you're losing your mind.

Your core is on fire and you can't stop yourself.

In a staggering turn of events, you come first.

Your walls come down like bricks on his dick, you cry out, throwing your head back in complete bliss and ecstasy.

Seeing and feeling this, Joel is quick to follow in your steps. He rips himself from that warm hole of yours and pumps himself dry onto your stomach.

You watch it all with wide eyes, you wouldn't have missed Joel's orgasm face for the world!

Of course, his eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth was open as he was breathing heavily, and his eyebrows turned down like he was mad.

God he was so beautiful.

His thick ropes of cum shoot all over your stomach and even your breasts as he jerks himself off to completion.

When he finishes, he takes a moment to catch his breath, finally opening his eyes to see you scoop up his cum from your breast with your finger and shove it in your mouth.

Your tongue swirls around his seed and you swallow eagerly, humming out in satisfaction at the taste of him.

Joel's watching in complete fascination, though his expression looks a little angry. When does it not?

"taste so good," you mumble with your finger still in your mouth, looking up at him with your big eyes.

He moves before he can think about it--ripping your hand away from your lips and caging you in a slow but deep kiss.

He soon falls down beside you and soon rolls over onto his back, his chest rising and falling from the excursion.

You curl into his side, watching his side profile so intently. You had just fucked Joel Miller.

And it was everything you had dreamed of. Extreme happiness doesn't even begin to describe your feelings right now.

There's a long stretch of silence that drapes over the both of you. Eventually, Joel breaks it with something extremely off topic.

"Last night...you didn't just come here to say 'hi', did you?"

You're momentarily speechless, not expecting that question from him at all. But you can't stop a giggle from coming through your lips.

"Actually, I came to confront you." Your voice is soft as you begin speaking, thinking back to last night's ordeal.

Joel doesn't expect this answer, his head turns to look at you while you speak. His arm comes down to drape over your shoulder.

"I was really upset cus you rejected me n'all. I just couldn't accept the whole, 'age gap' excuse. I wanted to know if you just really didn't like me or not." You're murmuring, drawing soft lines with your finger on the skin of Joel's chest.

He huffs out a breath at the explanation, shaking his head. "Guess you got your answer, huh." He grumbles out, somewhat ashamed of himself that he couldn't hold back.

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek. "I did," you chirp happily, admiring his face again. "You know you're gonna have to fuck me, like, everyday now, right?"

You're kidding. But you're also not at all.

Joel scoffs and sits up, moving to pick up both his and your shirts. "Fat chance. Barely had enough stamina for one round." He grunts out, finding the neck hole in your tank top and putting it over your head for you.

You don't bother to pull it down over your breasts so Joel does it for you.

"It's okay, we can build up your tolerance over time." You quip with a teasing smile, loving the way Joel turned to glare at you.

He couldn't believe the youth these days.

[mercy-burning]

Backseat Benefits

"You are the sun and I am the moon; What light you see in me is merely yours, reflected across the length of night" --William C. Hannah

——————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: On your way home one night, Spencer innocently wonders aloud about the benefits of a car's backseat. You aim to show him what they might be. Category: Smut (18+), Fluff Content: Making out, Heavy petting, blowjob, vaginal fingering/oral, good ol' fashioned car foolin' around. Baby Spencer is low-key insecure but fighting through it Word Count: 3.1k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Yeah, so what Spencer wonders about backseats is the thought I had while loading in my groceries this morning LMAOO, and then Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae came on shuffle when I got in, and I started this in the Walmart parking lot. Therefore this is not proofread. I briefly skimmed after I finished, but that's IT. Enjoy!

---------

You like to think you know Spencer pretty well; Two years of being friends and two more of a relationship under your belts has more than proven your mutual knowing and loving and understanding of each other.

Still, he manages to find ways to surprise you every day without even trying.

Tonight, you're on your way back to his apartment from seeing a movie a few towns over. The moon flashes in and out of view as tall, full trees whip past you in the night. You think Spencer might be staring, craning his head and trying to focus on the moonlight, but eventually you notice his eyes are trained on the rear view mirror.

"Something on your mind, Sunshine?"

His nose crinkles affectionately at the pet name you've coined for him. While you're sure there are more poetic ways to describe his aura and the way he makes you feel, there wasn't a better word in the moment you could have come up with to fully encapsulate his warmth. He was pure sunshine incarnate, and so the first week you'd known each other, it became clear that there was no other option. The nickname slipped past your lips without a second thought, he looked panicked and flushed for a moment before bumbling through his response, and it stuck.

The memory of it makes you smile as he answers you.

"I was just thinking... A large percentage of vehicles have backseats, but I wonder how many of them actually get used... I mean, sure, children basically only know the backseat, and families and friend groups will spend time there... But if you're the owner of a vehicle, chances are you haven't sat in your backseat. And after all, why would you? But it makes you wonder, how many vehicle owners are truly familiar with the backseat of their car?"

The momentary silence between you feels almost comical, but you're only trying to process. Is it a truly curious statement, or...

"Are you asking if I'm familiar with my backseat?"

The suggestive implication in your tone completely goes over his head, answering your question. "Well, no, that wasn't my intention, but... Are you?"

"Kinda," you answer truthfully. "I mean, I've loaded groceries into the backseat, and I've... Spent some time back there."

Spencer looks to you and raises an eyebrow, genuinely curious and asking for elaboration. It hadn't clicked yet.

Another silence falls between you for a while before he understands, his features contorting with realization and then embarrassment. "Oh..."

You can't help but laugh. "I mean, it's been a while, but... Yeah."

"I mean, I suppose it is a cliche for young lovers to hook up in the back of a car... But I didn't even think about it..."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, this car has only seen one rendezvous in my lifetime with it, and it has been heavily sanitized since then. So if you're curious about the backseat of my car, you're welcome to sit back there anytime you like."

He groans, scrunching his nose again, only less affectionately and in that way you've come to recognize as embarrassment. "I'm sorry. That was an odd conversation."

"Hey. I'm serious. Don't you ever apologize for being curious, especially not around me, alright?"

"Yeah, alright."

You can tell he's just trying to move on but that he doesn't actually believe you, and it breaks your heart a little—another thing that's surprised you tonight. After all your years as friends, his inability to recognize precisely how much you adore literally every facet of him never seems to go away. It's gotten better over the years, but on occasion, like now, he fails to believe that someone like you could truly love someone like him. His sunshine slowly starts to disappear behind a little cloud, and though it doesn't happen for very long, each time it does, it makes you want to curse the world and whatever forces have sprung him with storms of sorrow.

And it's happening now.

You make a quick decision to pull over, and he looks over at you quizzically as the car comes to a complete stop.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, concerned more for you than himself.

"No. You put the thought in my brain, and now I just wanna sit in my backseat and see what's going on back there."

Spencer's eyes drop. "You don't have to do that..."

Instead of responding, you unbuckle your seatbelt and leave the car running, opening the door. "C'mon."

He tries to stop you, but you climb out away from his hand and close the door behind you, bracing yourself against the gentle summer wind. And now the thought really is running rampant in your head; You'd never thought about it before, but merely opening the back door feels different in your hand than when you open the driver's door. You don't know if it's just a trick of the mind—a product of the task at hand—or if there's any technical difference in the way back and front car doors are designed.

When you finally sit down in the backseat, you're about to tell Spencer about your thoughts on it only to find out that he's gone, but only for a few seconds. He climbs in beside you, his hair astray from the wind.

You smile. "Welcome to the backseat, Sunshine. Take off your jacket, stay a while."

Your words have managed to make him laugh. A small victory— a beam of light protruding from his little cloud.

"It's roomy back here," he muses, looking around, his smile still lingering.

"It's like a whole new world."

Spencer laughs again, and then you follow, and before you know it, the both of you have fallen into a small cyclone of laughter that parts the clouds and lifts the mood entirely.

"I love you," he says at last, scooting in closer to you, your legs touching now.

You reach your hand out to grab his, bringing it to rest on your chest, right where your heart sits beneath flesh and bone. "I love you, too, Sunshine. Don't you ever forget it."

Your faces have drifted closer now, noses nestling against one another as one more silence befalls you. Only this time, the thing forming in the midst is a different kind of storm. Electric, gravitating, and warm.

His lips find yours with ease, and what a gentle endeavor it is; A small gesture of gratitude and adoration that makes your heart flutter like it had the first time you kissed him. Your hand tightens over his, a squeeze of affection that lets him know you're embracing his warmth, and that you can only hope to return it to him in full.

When your lips part against his, however, something shifts in his gentleness. It firms and grows bold, pressing into you with a desperation that isn't necessarily surprising, but igniting.

You admittedly never pictured yourself making out with Spencer Reid in the backseat of your car, but now that it's happening, the low hum of the air conditioning rumbling through the space between you and the wind rustling outside, you fully embrace the pang of need that takes hold in your body and spreads to every limb.

Wandering hands, curious tongues, and saccharine sighs become your whole world for what feels like hours. Cars occasionally whoosh by, but you pay them no mind, too entirely wrapped up in your boyfriend and the way he's loving you to even consider them. Though, the thought of two government employees being caught for public indecency briefly crosses your mind and makes you huff a laugh into Spencer's mouth.

He breaks apart. "What is it?"

You kiss him again, humming mischievously into him. "Ohhh, you know."

Another kiss, slow and deliberate...

"Just thinking."

Your kisses travel along his jaw, and then his neck. His pulse under your lips is a thrill in its own right, a tangible reminder of the life he so beautifully offers you.

"About the benefits of having an unexplored backseat."

You feel his whole body sigh as your hands untuck his shirt from the band of his pants.

Then he laughs, the sound strained and desperate, and you want to bottle it up and keep it forever. "I thought you've already... explored this backseat."

In another life you would have laughed back, but there is absolutely nothing funny about the way you want him right now. Your body is on fire, screaming at you, begging to please him and feel the weight of him in your mouth, aching for the sounds that slip past his pretty, pouty lips.

Fuck.

"I want to explore it with you," you nearly whine, unbuckling his belt and licking at his collarbone. "God, Spencer, I want you so bad..."

You're not entirely sure what sound escapes him then, but once again he sounds desperate and unbelieving as your hand dips into his pants and palms him over the gray boxers you watched him put on this morning.

It spurs you forward, his desperation feeding your own, and your hand tightens around the length of him, feeling how hard and aching he is.

"Mmm, you want it too, don't you?" you moan into his chest, sinking yourself lower and lower, crawling down his body until your crouched half on the floor of the car.

Spencer swallows hard and tries to control his breathing. "Always want you..."

You grin, satisfied with his state. A man of many words, reduced to half-sentences and mindless whines of want at your mercy. Your sweet, bright boy is putty in your hands, and it's utterly intoxicating.

He manages to lift his hips enough for you to wrestle with his pants and move them down enough so you can slip his cock out of his boxers. Once it's out, firm in your hand and glistening with need, he sits back down and throws his head back.

The sound of your name falls short on his lips the second you put your mouth on him, like he's stopped thinking all together. His world stops, frozen in time as your lips wrap perfectly around him and sink down slowly. Your tongue lays flat under him, firm and wet and warm, and only when he hits the back of your throat does he let out a sound.

You hold yourself there as long as you can, gagging around him briefly before lifting your head and coming off of him with a pop of your lips. A trail of spit comes with them, which you use to help your hand glide smoothly up and down his shaft as you look up at him.

He's watching you work with disbelief, and you're about to say something about it when he surprises you yet again.

"A-Aren't you... uncomfortable? Crouched down like that?"

"Maybe a little," you tell him, squeezing his cock and working the tip in your fist. His eyes squeeze shut, trying to restrain himself from feeling pleasure when you're down here, contorted with uncomfortable limbs. "But that's the whole point, I suppose..."

"I don't follow," he breathes, a whimper chasing after his words when you lean down and press an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock.

"When you're young and in love... Hooking up in the backseat... Desperate and passionate for someone..." Your tongue comes out and teases under the tip before you continue, his eyes straining to keep open as he writhes underneath you. "If it means finding a little thrill with the one you love... What's a little discomfort?"

You take him fully in your mouth again, bobbing your head up and down when you see him finally submit to it— the pleasure, the thrill...

Spencer moans, loud, the sound vibrating through you and settling deep in your core. You squeeze your legs together grind your hips into the cramped air, seeking friction in nothing but the fabric clinging to your thighs. Quite literally the living breathing definition of hot and bothered, you can't help but slack your jaw and drool on his cock, reveling in the way it glides over your tongue and repeatedly hits the back of your throat.

"I—I can't... I'm gon—na—"

You moan your approval around the length of him, reaching up to hold Spencer's hand as he twitches and writhes in your mouth. With a final squeeze of his hand, he cries out and lets go. You swallow as much as you can, but with the small space and limited room for precision, it gets messier than you figure he'd enjoy. Still, he sighs blissfully as his load lightens, and when he's orgasmed out, you make quick work of cleaning him up.

He watches you in reverence, softly whimpering at every slow stroke of your tongue as it cleans him. You take your time, leaving no inch of him untouched, uncared for...

Your cunt is practically throbbing by the time you come back up, the sensation only intensifying when Spencer pulls you into him immediately. His lips move over yours wildly, a languid labor of love that isn't laborious at all. In fact, he kisses you like he's been doing it his whole life, with no hesitation or question, and with every ounce of enthusiasm one could possibly carry.

Sunshine radiates through his fingertips, hot and enveloping as they slip under your shirt and against the skin of your lower back. You climb over him instinctively, straddling his lap and kissing him back with that same desperation that had infiltrated his kisses earlier.

He's tired from coming, you can tell, but his love for you doesn't waver— it urges him forward, carries his hand down to the front of your pants, and offers the same relief you'd gifted him.

"Please, baby, I need your fingers in me," you whine into his mouth, helping him unbutton and loosen your pants.

"Anything you want," he responds in earnest, finally getting into a comfortable enough position to slip past your underwear and touch you where you want him the most.

He kisses you through a whine, gliding through your cunt with ease.

"Mmm that's what you do to me, Sunshine," you tell him, grinding into his hand. "You make me feel so good."

His middle finger is precise, circling your clit as you try not to fall over on him. Your pants hanging around your thighs make it hard to give him more than restrictive access, but as you told him before, it's all part of the experience.

It certainly adds to your desperation, your kisses becoming urgent and sloppy, and then he manages to slip a finger inside. The fullness isn't stimulating enough to get you off necessarily, but it's welcome and hot all the same. You help him out, softly lifting and dropping your hips to meet his rhythm, and then you reach down to frantically rub your clit.

"Fuck it," he finally breathes, pulling away from you and shifting his weight. "Can you lay down?"

The two of you shift and struggle to position yourselves more comfortably, another fit of laughter tangling between you as you attempt it. Eventually, Spencer is able to remove your shoes and slide your pants down over your ankles, and then he's throwing your leg over his shoulder and bending down.

Even though you have more room, the car suddenly feels cramped, sweat gathering on your body and your muscles cramping from contorting so oddly just minutes before. And now, with your boyfriend's mouth and fingers working in tandem to get you off, you're exerting yourself even more.

It doesn't take very long to approach your orgasm, the evening's built-up tension finally coming to a head.

It also helps that Spencer knows what he's doing— That had been another surprise at the start of your relationship. He was so shy and awkward and prone to bumbling when it came to dating you at first, that the first time you had sex with him, you weren't expecting to be so exhausted that you'd slept straight through three alarms.

His tongue flicks over your clit with rapid, even strokes, meanwhile his fingers accompany them with long and meticulous accuracy that makes for the perfect orgasm. It builds and builds, until your head thumps back and hits the hard plastic of the inside of the door. You laugh through it, your body shuddering under Spencer's care, and you can feel him laughing, too.

As you come down, your body relaxing, he helps you sit up. "Are you okay?"

You can help but giggle, taking his face in your hands and kissing him firmly. "Absolutely. It's all part of the backseat charm."

He considers this with a grin that makes you weak. With one simple smile you've fallen in love with your Sunshine boy all over again. "After all, they say nothing worthwhile comes easy..."

"Mmm..."

He helps you put your pants and shoes back on, then tucks himself back into his own pants and fixes his shirt. And in comfortable, loving silence that needs nothing to fill the gaps, the two of you make your way back to the front of the car, ready to journey home.

The moon sits higher in the sky, not as disguised by the trees, and you look up at it and think about what Spencer said, not pulling the car out of park just yet.

"I don't think it's true," you say, prompting him to tilt his head.

"What's that?"

"That nothing worthwhile comes easy. I don't think it's true at all. Do you know why?"

Again, he ponders, not with a grin but with thoughtful eyes and the pout he pulls when he's considering but coming up empty handed. He shakes his head. "Why?"

"Because I love you. It's the most worthwhile thing I've ever done, and it's not difficult in the slightest."

His brown eyes, impossibly big and always brimming with wonder, have started to also brim with tears. They don't fall—they only well and glimmer in the wake of your words, until he blinks and forces them out.

Your hand reaches for his and he squeezes.

"I love you, too. More than you will ever even begin to comprehend." His voice breaks and puts itself back together through each syllable, and in doing so, chips away any sort of belief that he may not truly be lovable. Day by day, moment by moment, you continue to prove to him just how bright and deserving and inherently good he is.

A direct reflection of the two of you suddenly embalms the car— his bright smile that radiates like sunbeams and the glow of moonlight through the windshield that reminds him of your opaline heart.

Spencer lifts your hand to his lips, and in that moment, you vow to yourself that for the rest of your life, you will do everything to keep the clouds away.

And silently, in the gentle press of his lips to the palm of your hand, he vows the very same.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR PRE ESTABLISHED CONNECTIONS AND CREATING HISTORY BETWEEN CHARACTERS *  assorted dialogue for giving your characters a history and giving them past things or events to talk about, adjust as necessary

do you remember what i told you last time?

have you been doing well since i saw you?

that's not what you told me back then.

when was the last time i saw you?

you were shorter then.

i'm picking the restaurant this time.

we've known each other since we were children.

always knew i could count on you.

that time was different. this is worse.

you're not going to let me live that down, are you?

i seem to remember a conversation we had back then.

so you changed your mind about it?

do you remember our encounter in paris?

you should know me by now.

am i the only one that knows the truth?

we had a lot of help back then.

your mom told me to look out for you.

you just love bringing that back up to annoy me.

maybe don't mention my past indescretions?

this was never going to work out between us.

i told you not to get attached.

i know more about you than you think.

i was there, remember?

i'm not about to forget all the shit you put me through.

you told me you were going to try and make this work.

remember what i said to you?

the last time i saw you, things were good between us.

you never mentioned this before.

that was the longest flight of my life, and you made it worse.

can i still trust you after all that?

at least we tried to make something work.

we never discussed what happened between us.

okay, but i'm driving the car this time.

i haven't forgotten what you said last week.

i'm still thinking about your comment.

i didn't realize it was you when i first saw you.

you seem to make a lot of enemies around here.

there's not much for us to talk about.

we worked it out last time.

i know you far better than you know yourself.

we have a long history.

is that the shirt you were wearing last time?

what don't i know about you?

i haven't told them about us.

you were the only person i could go to.

you know me.

this is bigger than both of us.

i can't stand your driving.

are you taking me to the place we had dinner last time?

that's not at all what you said.

didn't we agree on that?

i thought i made it very clear where i stand.

are these the same people that came after you last time?

are you still going on about it?

can we talk about it?

staying silent about it won't help.

you're the only person who knows the real me.

this is a bad time to talk about your problems.

[mywritersmind]

CALL ME WHENEVER - LN4

summary : based off the world mental health day video mclaren posted. lando calling his girlfriend to check in.

listen up : no warnings just sweet!! if you ever need help just know you are loved and things DO get better! you are never a burden! my messages are always open <3

word count : 318

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lando breathed out as he pulled out of the mclaren center. He had just finished up with social and filming a ‘World Mental Health Day’ video. He was tasked to call someone and check in, and while he had called a friend, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

“Hey!” You answer, Settling down on your couch.

“Hi!” Lando’s smile grew as he heard you on the other end of the call, “I just wanted to check in- Uh… I wanted to see how you were doing.”

You lean back into your pillow, smiling softly at his voice, “I’m okay. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” He sighs, “A lot. We just filmed this video and it made me realize I don’t ask enough, about how you really are.”

This had definitely been a surprise, you talk almost every day and sure you both complain, celebrate, and describe your days, but this felt nicer than that.

“I appreciate it, Lan.” You suddenly want to hug the man despite being across the country, “Honestly I’m going fucking mental at this new job but knowing I get to see you soon gets me motivated again.” He taps his fingers against the steering wheel.

“I’m excited to see you. It’s gonna be the perfect break.” He would make it perfect for you.

He hears you go silent for a moment, then your soft breath returns, “I’m really glad you called me.”

“I am too.” Lando says, “You know you can call me whenever, right? Anytime.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. You can too, of course. Sometimes it’s just nice to hear a familiar voice.” The rustling of a blanket sounds through before you speak again, “Oh! I have a whole itinerary planned for us!” He laughs, smiling to himself still.

Lando pushes his curls back, “Well then I must hear it all!”

[deathxproof]

technically I get out of work early (compared to my usual schedule) tomorrow so I’m…. Hoping to get some writing done. or I could pass out as soon as I’m home from work because wake up early. who’s to say.

[pasukiyo]

BEAUTIFUL THING

mike schmidt x f!reader word count; 2,573 warnings; smut, no plot, just porn :D summary; there was nothing in the world she wanted more than mike schmidt. but what were the chances he'd ever make a move on her?

 She wanted Mike Schmidt.

 Don’t get her wrong, she absolutely adored Abby, she was sweet, funny, and overall not a hard kid to take care of. But she knew all too well what her intentions were when she agreed to take up the babysitting job— how could she say no when he looked at her like that with those big, deep brown eyes?

 It was another late night spent at the Schmidt house— Mike had just gotten himself a new job with unholy hours, some late night security gig he had no choice but to take. Her mouth opened in a yawn and through her bleary vision, she blinked down to the watch on her wrist. 

 4:30 AM. Mike wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half or so. 

 She sighed and threw her head back against the cushions, staring absentmindedly at the television as some old cartoon played, audio soft and muffled. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered trying to stay up for Mike— she’d been babysitting for him for months, (without pay, might she add) and still, neither he nor she had made any moves. She wasn’t even sure if he ever even intended to make a move on her. 

 But she was just so certain that he felt at least some sort of attraction towards her. She could see it in the way he looked at her, how his eyes would absentmindedly trail down her body against his better judgment, how he’d pull the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth while he did. She could see it in the way his body would react when she came too close, like when she gave him a handshake or playfully shoved his shoulder.

 It was the same way she reacted when he was close. 

 Surely it couldn’t all be for nothing?

 Her eyelids were falling heavy against her eyes and she slowly slumped further into the cushions of the couch, hands tightening around the blanket around her body. Sleep was so close that she could reach out and feel it, and she would’ve slipped into the arms of slumber if it hadn’t been for the opening and closing of the front door. 

 She grumbled and furrowed her brows down at her watch. 

 4:35 AM. Mike wasn’t supposed to be home yet. 

 At the notion, she jolted and snapped her head towards the entrance, her heart thrumming against her chest as she prepared herself for the sight of a total stranger, ready to make a run straight for Abby’s room. She blinked and narrowed her eyes at the dark silhouette of the figure as it hung its coat on the rack bolted on the wall. 

 “Sorry. S’ just me.”

 She knew that voice. It was a voice she always dreamed about, a voice belonging to someone she’d seen practically everyday.

 “Mike?” Her voice came out rough, having not spoken for hours, not since Abby had gone to bed. “What are you doing home so early?” She asked as she pushed herself further up the sofa while Mike made his way towards the recliner, wiping a hand down his face before plopping down into the seat. She could only make out his face through the light from the television but even then, she could sense something was off. 

 Mike tapped his fingers against the armrest of the recliner, “I… I just… needed to leave… I guess,” he replied and she frowned, scooting to the far side of the couch closest to him. “Is… is everything alright?” She questioned, unsure whether or not he needed consoling. Mike leaned further back into his seat and let his eyelids flutter closed, inhaling deep through his nostrils. 

 “Just… is Abby asleep?” He finally asked after a moment and she nodded, humming. “She went down earlier than usual. Actually managed to get her to eat something,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile but quickly faltering again when she realized Mike wasn’t going to reciprocate. He looked almost… distraught. 

 Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she pondered her options. She’d known Mike for some time but even then, she still knew little to nothing about him. He slept a lot, that was for sure. And he loved his little sister and was trying so hard to be exactly the type of person she needed. But she knew nothing about him, Mike Schmidt himself. She didn’t know what he did in his free time, what he liked to eat, if he had hobbies, nothing. 

 Hell, she’d spent so much time fantasizing about him and filling in all the holes herself, she hardly even acknowledged that he could be somebody entirely else. She didn’t know the first thing about him.

 But she could learn to try. 

 She leaned forward, a steady hand warily finding his on the armrest of the recliner and she flinched when Mike snapped his eyelids open, looking between her and their touching hands. Their gazes surged into one another and she made no moves, as if seeking any sign that she should stop.

 Mike’s heart thrummed so hard inside his chest, it was a miracle that she couldn’t hear it. She looked at him as if she were asking permission— permission to what, he hadn’t even the slightest clue. But in spite of the voices inside of his head telling him he shouldn’t, that he shouldn’t let her, that he was wrong for her, he did. How could he say no when she looked at him like that, as if he were the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes upon?

 His silence gave her the confidence to let her fingers creep further down to the back of his hand, flipping it around until they rested against the heel of his palm. Slowly, she soothed the tips of her fingers up his palm until they fell between the cracks of his, letting her digits curl around his knuckles. Mike shuddered at the touch and let his own fingers press down against hers and he watched as she raised their intertwined hands to her mouth, their gazes molded together as she pressed her lips against his skin. His lips trembled as they fell open and he narrowed his eyes, clinging onto the last bit of restraint he had left. 

 “You can relax with me, Mike,” she whispered against his skin, pressing another soft kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger. “You don’t have to worry while I’m around.”

 Mike pressed his lips back together and fought back the urge to groan at her words, his eyes wandering from their hands, down her arm, to her chest where it pressed against the edge of the sofa. His breath shuddered when he exhaled and the rubber band stretched inside of him finally released and with it, the last of his restraint. 

 Fuck it, he thought. It’s been long enough.

 Mike tugged her closer by the hand and her lids widened, a squeal slipping from her lips, in which he was swift to eat right up, pressing his mouth against hers. With his hand not intertwined with hers, he gripped her hip, working his way up to her waist to squeeze. The sound she made was muffled inside their admittedly messy kiss and he pulled her even closer, her knees having nowhere to go but on the outside of his thighs. 

 Mike groaned and pulled away to catch his breath as her hips ground down against his, already feeling frustrated with the growing erection in his jeans. He blinked up at the woman on top of him, her arms thrown over his shoulders, her chest heaving as she chased air back into her lungs. She stared down at him with hazy irises, still bleary from lack of sleep. 

 “Sorry,” Mike finally managed to breathe out, his palms resting on either of her thighs. “Probably a little much, wasn’t it?”

 He watched as the corners of her lips curved into a grin and she chuckled breathlessly, shaking her head. “Not enough,” she tittered as she surged her lips back into his, one of her hands on his shoulders slithering their way into his mess of dark tendrils, fingers curling and tugging at his roots. He hissed inside her mouth and dug his fingernails into her skin, a whimper falling from her lips, allowing him to take control of the situation. 

 He pressed himself forward and reached for the end of her t-shirt and she briefly broke away to allow the fabric up and over her head, her own fingers already working at the buckle of his belt. Mike leaned forward to pepper kisses all across the tops of her breasts and she threw her head back as he took over in undoing his belt, ripping it from his loops and throwing open the button and zipper of his jeans. 

 She clambered off of him as he raised his hips to tug his pants and boxers down just enough to allow his erection to spring free of its restraints, feeling her stomach do a somersault at the sight as she stripped herself of her own shorts and panties. Mike fought the urge to wrap his hands around his cock as she reached behind her back to undo the clasps of her bra and time seemed to slow as the straps fell from her shoulders, the lave toppling to the floor altogether. 

 He swore he could feel his mouth water and never before this moment had he wanted something, or someone, more. He blinked up at her, following her gaze down to his lap and at his erection that stood tall, waiting for her, dripping with pre-cum. 

 Mike cocked an eyebrow, “you just gonna stand there or you gonna take it?” He asked, voice low and husky and fuck, she thought she’d drop dead right then and there. Still, this was a dangerous game they were playing. “What about Abby?” She whispered, glancing towards the hallway where Abby’s room was. “What if she wakes up?”

 Mike pressed his lips together and bucked his hips, raising a leg to softly give her calf a kick. “You can be quiet, right?” He murmured in question and she felt herself clench from his voice alone. Here Mike Schmidt was, cock out and erect, all because of her. This was something she had only dreamed of— never did she think that this would become reality. 

 Mike cocked his eyebrow again and she shook herself from her thoughts, taking his hand as he guided her back onto his lap. Her body shuddered and her bones rattled as she began to sink herself down, jolting when the tip brushed against her cunt, teeth sinking down into the plush of her bottom lip to contain her sounds. 

 “It’s okay,” Mike whispered. “I got you.”

 Her eyes about rolled in the back of her head at that as his hands kneaded at the flesh of either of her hips, guiding her further down his length, making sure to go agonizingly slow to ensure she felt every single fucking inch of cock inside of her. Tears brimmed the outskirts of her eyelids as she finally sat still on his lap, filled to the brim with cock. Mike let her head fall down against the curve of his shoulder, burying her nose into the crook of his neck as she allowed time to adjust to his size, simultaneously trying to keep her sounds to a minimum. 

 “You’re so tight,” Mike’s breath shuddered in her ear and his voice made goosebumps litter her skin, his fingertips like the icy breath of a ghost against her back. “You think you can handle moving now?” He asked in a whisper against the shell of her ear and she nodded, letting him grab her thighs and push her further up his cock until just the head remained. She cried against his neck when he sank her all the way back down his length, the lewd noise of their wet skin slapping together making her clench around him. “Fff… uuck,” he dragged his curse out as he snapped his hips up against her.

 “Shit!” She gasped as he thrusted again and again and again. And she let him. She let him use her in whatever way he pleased. 

 “Gonna be good for me?” He muttered next to her ear. “Gonna let me take care of you, hm?” She nodded, bobbing her head up and down against his shoulder as he snapped his hips up to hers again and again, daring the coil inside her belly to snap. “Think you can handle it?” He asked again and she nodded once more, crying and biting down on his collar. “Yes!” She cried, fortunately muffled against his skin. 

 So Mike thrusted again, harder and harder, chasing that high, that release he so desperately needed. He could tell she was close— it’d probably been so long since she’d been stuffed by cock like this. She’d probably been waiting for this moment just as long as he has. 

 With the pad of his thumb, he pressed down against her aching bud and Mike could feel a fresh new set of tears soak his skin as she cried, bucking her hips into his touch. His thrusts were as sloppy as they were powerful and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. 

 “Mmm… Mike… I’m… I’m gonna…” she hardly managed to stutter out, slowly feeling the coil inside her stomach as it began to unravel. 

 “Yeah?” Mike said, his other hand wrapped around her neck and pushing her forehead down against his, gazing up at her closed eyelids. He rolled his head against hers, “look at me,” he breathed out and watched as she slowly fluttered her lids back open, just as more fat tears beaded down her cheeks. The sight was enough to get him to teeter on the edge himself. 

 “Gonna come?” He asked and she nodded, sweat-slicked forehead lolling against his. He nodded too, already feeling her release around him as she spawned around his cock, relying solely on him and his body to keep herself up. She buried her face in the crook of his neck again as she whined and cried, Mike’s thrusts speeding up as he gave himself that final push he needed to send himself reeling, spiraling and shaking with the force of his release. 

 “Fuck,” he growled into the skin just below her ear, squeezing his eyelids shut tighter as he willed himself to keep his sounds on the low, for the sake of his little sister sleeping just in the other room. 

 Silence fell over Mike and the babysitter for a good, long moment as they both recovered from their highs, chasing air back into their lungs as the realization of what they had just done began to sink in. Mike should be mortified— she was his sister’s babysitter, he doesn’t have time for this, she doesn’t deserve him, he shouldn't have done this. 

 But the woman in his lap settled herself closer into him, nuzzling her nose against the crook of his neck, her lips like a crescent moon against his skin as she placed a soft kiss to his flesh there. 

 “I hope you’re okay, Mike,” she whispered and he threw his head back, an arm thrown around her body as he stared up at the ceiling. How could he push her away now?

a/n; so yeah!!! i watched fnaf on friday and it kinda sorta just brought back my whole josh hutcherson phase so enjoy!! this was just a quick little something i wrote up and there's like no plot at all and not proofread LMAO